Gravity
by dappledshadows
Summary: 'It's been a few weeks since she sought refuge up here, to get away from the hassle and noise of the city. At least, that's what she's telling herself, trying not to think about all the people she's left behind whilst licking her wounds in private, just the woods surrounding her father's cabin to witness how far she's fallen.' Set during the summer before S4 and going AU from there
1. Chapter 1

**Gravity:**

* * *

 **Chapter 1:**

* * *

Kate stares out of the window, mesmerised by the raindrops trickling down in unmapped streaks through the condensation. She shifts on the window seat, wincing as her scar pulls, the slightest movements enough to send jolts of pain down through her nerve endings. Sitting here on the threadbare cushions, the velvety frilled edges worn with age, it's too late to even fathom being able to move without help. She curses herself quietly for being so caught up in the soothing sounds of raindrops hitting the wood of the porch just outside the window, the ripples in the lake next to her father's cabin lulling her into a trance that has kept her sitting here for hours.

It's been a few of weeks since she was released from the hospital and sought refuge up here, to get away from the hassle and noise of the city. At least, that's what she's telling herself, trying not to think about all the people she's left behind whilst licking her wounds in private, just the woods surrounding her father's cabin to witness how far she's fallen.

Heaving out a sigh, she closes her eyes against the pain throbbing in her chest and the dull ache at her side. She can't be thinking about the others right now, not when she's barely even holding herself together at the moment.

She knows that she needs to get up and eat something, but she won't call her dad over to help, won't allow herself the luxury of aid when it's her own damn fault that she's aching so much in the first place. Her dad had warned that the threadbare cushioning of the window seat at the front of the cabin wouldn't be good for her to sit on right now, the lack of padding causing the constant aches to be bone deep, but this is the only place she feels she can get some peace.

It's the same window she'd spent hours staring out of as a little girl, watching the wildlife come and go; squirrels and rabbits, even some young fawns hesitantly following their mothers out into the open, before hurrying back to the cover of the trees at the slightest sound. She doesn't imagine she'd react differently herself right now.

More recently though, after her mother's death, she's taken to leaning back against the pillows here and reading books, comforted by the pattering of rain or the warmth of the sun streaming through the glass, bathing her in light as she curls up and loses herself amongst the words on the pages. It's the only place she can feel calm now, and she pretends that it isn't because this window is the only one where visitors, or _snipers,_ can be seen coming up the gravelled driveway, out of the surrounding trees.

She can't be caught off guard if she sits here.

Eventually, her dad finds her gripping the edges of the window seat with both hands, a sheen of sweat coating her skin from her efforts to shift forwards and try to stand up alone, only to fail miserably.

"Oh, Katie," he sighs, placing a tray of food down on the coffee table. Pieces of toast with jam and assortments of fruit, which is all her uncooperative stomach can handle right now anyway.

Her dad makes his way over, helping her to stand up with as little pain as possible, but getting upright still has her clenching her teeth, squeezing back the tears threatening to fall at the shooting pain coursing through her.

He leads her over to the small couch, more like a love-seat really, and she lowers herself precariously down onto the much softer cushions, sighing in relief as her muscles ease up when she sinks into them.

Her father sits himself down on the dark green armchair next to her, and she reaches for a couple of grapes, mindful of his watchful gaze.

"I need to know that you're going to be okay while I'm gone, Katie," he begins, pushing the mug of herbal tea towards her. No coffee, of course. As if recovering from a gunshot wound isn't unpleasant enough without taking away one of her few pleasures in life. "If there was any way could get off this case-"

"No, Dad," she interrupts, her voice croaking from disuse. "I won't let you risk your job because of me. I'll be fine." She won't, but he's better off not knowing that.

"Won't you let me call someone?" he pushes, leaning forwards, his elbows resting on top of his knees. "What about Rick?"

" _No."_

"Katie, I'm sure he's worried sick about you."

Oh God, she can't think about this right now. She can't deal with the images that assault her just from hearing his name, the echoes of gunshots and searing _pain_ blending against a cloudless sky and eyes so blue she just wants to drown in them, his voice whispering an ' _I love you'_ she doesn't deserve and is too broken to say back.

Breath starting to escape in short gasps, her pulse starts beating hard enough that she can hear it pounding in her ears. She can't have another panic attack thinking about him, she won't allow it.

Her father must be able to read the alarm in her eyes, her unwillingness to drag anyone else down this abyss of darkness she's sinking into, because he lets out a resigned sigh, pushing himself up off the chair and pats her shoulder gently as he leaves the room.

Kate spends the next half an hour picking at the toast, tearing off small pieces with her fingers and popping them into her mouth, relishing in the sweetness of the strawberry jam bursting on her taste buds. She's exhausted now, even though she's been sitting down all day, slipping in and out of consciousness as her medication takes its toll on her energy levels. She needs to regain her strength so that she can get back to work though, so that she can hunt down the son of a bitch that killed her mother, her captain, and the sniper who almost killed her.

Brushing the crumbs off her fingers and onto a napkin, she sinks back further into the couch cushions. She can hear her dad shuffling around the bedroom he used to share with her mother, and comforted by the sound, mixing with the white noise of the raindrops rhythmically hitting the ground outside, she finds herself slipping under again, helpless against the wave of darkness crashing over her, dragging her beneath the surface to fall into slumber.

* * *

It's only hours later when she bolts upright, pain flaring in the pits of her chest, burning through her veins like fire. The sheets from her bed are tangled, twisting around her legs in ropes, and she heaves out panicked gasps into the dark, her dream still flashing behind her eyelids in vivid technicolour.

Images of Castle carrying her from the aircraft hangar, lifting her with decisive ease as he uses his strength against her for the first time, pressing her against the car. Holding her up, his eyes boring into hers with such sorrow, complete and utter devotion shining back at her.

The gunshots ringing off the walls of the hangar, each shot tearing through her and wracking her with sobs. She relives it every time she closes her eyes, only this time, with the last fatal gunshot, she's thrown backwards, connecting with the solid ground.

The bleak night sky is replaced by a brilliant blue, sun shining so bright that it makes her eyes water, before she notices the solid weight above her, the instant agonising pain sharp in her sternum.

 _Don't leave me, please._

Castle's voice, pleading with her, the only sound she can hear over the furious rushing in her ears.

 _Stay with me, okay?_

God, Castle. It _hurts._

 _I love you. I love you, Kate._

She presses a palm firmly against her sternum, feels the racing of her broken heart inside of her chest. Trying to breathe through the panic, she can feel tears cascading down her cheeks as she grinds her teeth against the agonising sting of pain pulsing through her. A sudden bang of thunder from the rainstorm still raging outside has her cowering in her bed, ducking away from the window as she keens out sobbing gasps, reaching out a hand out towards her nightstand for a gun that isn't there.

She grabs something else, her phone, and before she realises what she's doing, she can hear the droning of the dial tone pressed against her ear.

"Castle."

Everything stills. Her breath freezes in her lungs, and everything fades away from her but his voice and the heavy thump of her heart.

"…Hello?" Fresh tears spring to her eyes, and she lifts a quivering hand up to her mouth at the surge of emotion just hearing his voice brings to her, dulling the pain more effectively than any painkillers seem to. He sounds tired, muffled with sleep, and she imagines him picking up the phone with his face half smashed in a pillow, just like when she calls for a body drop.

He must have pulled away to check the caller ID though, because she hears a sudden gasp and he starts speaking louder, urgency lacing his words. "Beckett? Beckett, is that you?"

She squeezes her eyes shut against the tragic hope in his voice.

"Are you there?" Oh God, she can't take this. "Kate, please."

A broken sob breaks free from her, and she hastily tries to wipe away the wet from her cheeks.

"Hey, it's okay," he soothes into the phone. "You're okay, don't cry."

"Castle," she chokes out, voice clogged with tears.

"Shh, I'm here. God, Kate, I'm here." He sound like he's crying himself, the desperate quality to his voice giving it away. "It's going to be alright, you've got this."

She needed to hear that. _God,_ she's been needing to hear that. That he's still there, that he still thinks she's strong enough to get through this.

He continues to whisper nonsensical reassurances in her ears, lulling her breathing and easing her pain, and she doesn't know when she falls asleep, but hanging onto the edge of consciousness, she realises how

hearing his voice has made her feel more whole than she has since a bullet broke her into pieces weeks ago.

* * *

As a writer, Richard Castle considers himself to be well acquainted with the night. Dark hours spent hostage to his overactive imagination, keeping him in a state of insomnia until he can transcribe the words engraved in his mind onto the page.

But the sleeplessness he's experienced over the past few weeks is something he's unfamiliar with.

Slumping against his elbows and resting on the kitchen counter, an untouched bowl of cereal in front of him, he heaves out a weighted sigh, covering his eyes with one palm as the other searches around the counter blindly for his phone, the screen flaring too brightly for the grey of the early morning.

No missed calls.

Sighing, he drops the device onto the counter, shifting off his elbows to stand up. He drags his feet away from the kitchen, hissing when he stubs his toe against a pair of shoes he carelessly left lying around, making his way to the office, the rising sun outside casting a blanket of dim light against the room as he settles himself down in front of his laptop.

It hums faintly, coming to life as he opens the lid, the routine familiar to him now after weeks of sleepless nights and early mornings. Exorcizing the demons haunting his sleep the only way he knows how, he begins to type.

He's written it all down a hundred times now, describing the ringing of gunshots echoing in his head as he felt the hot pulse of blood pumping out and staining the grass. Kate Beckett's palm, pale and cold and _dead,_ clasped firmly within his own as she flat lined in the ambulance, leaving him to squeeze her hand tightly as if it might bring back her pulse. Listening to the deafening blare of the alarm and praying to deities that he doesn't even believe in that his unheard whispers of love would be enough to heal her broken heart and make it beat again.

Now, a new memory will be added to the list of things that haunt his mind.

Being woken up by his phone during the early hours of the morning, the heart-wrenching sound of Kate's sobs tearing into his insides, breaking his heart all over again. It's the first sign of life he's had since leaving her alone in her hospital bed. Small, pale, and fragile but _alive,_ and one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever seen.

He stops typing suddenly, leaning down onto his elbows and runs his hands through his hair. He needs to see her. And if her phone call last night is anything to go by, it's a pretty good bet that she needs him as well.

Mind made up, Castle pushes himself away from his desk, up out of his chair. He picks up his phone, barely sparing a glance at the time reminding him of the unsociably early hour, before searching his contacts and selecting the name just above Kate's.

There's nothing but the dial tone sounding for a few tense moments, leaving just enough time for the nerves to set in, stirring in his stomach.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end sounds worn, emotionally tired, but not as though they had just been woken up.

 _At least there's that._

"Jim?" he greets, clearing his throat when he hears the ragged projection of his voice. "It's Rick Castle."

"Rick Castle?" he repeats, sounding surprised but not unpleasantly so. "How are you, son?"

Castle tries to ignore the feeling that surges through him at being called 'son', but find he can't help the rush of warmth.

"Uh, not too bad, thanks." It's a lie, but he won't burden Jim Beckett with the knowledge of his poor coping with recent events. "But I was actually calling about Kate."

The older man chuckles softly. "I probably could have guessed that."

"How is she?"

There's a slight pause on the other side of the line, the sound of some shuffling. "Well, I'm not going to lie and tell you she's fine, but she is getting better."

He lets out a rushed breath, feeling a weight being lifted off him knowing that his partner is at least making progress in her recovery. "Are you staying with her?"

"I am."

"Good," he nods, relief seeping through his words. "That's good."

He momentarily debates telling Jim about Kate's call last night. The pain laced sobbing he was greeted with, how he'd spent the rest of the night whispering soothing words through the phone until he could hear her laboured breathing finally lull with sleep. He eventually decides against it though, knowing that he can't risk betraying her trust any more than he already has.

There's silence on both ends for a few moments, and he fights not to bombard Kate's father with the millions of questions that have been swimming around his brain about the detective's current state. He doesn't understand how the man can even talk to him. After promising to protect Beckett, all he did was contribute to getting her shot. If only he had been faster. If only he could have convinced her to drop the case. If only he hadn't pushed her to look into it in the first place.

If someone had done this to Alexis…

"Uh, thanks, Jim," he stutters into the phone, suddenly eager to end this call. "If there's anything at all I can do to help, _anything,_ please just know that I'm here."

Jim is silent for a few seconds.

"Well, actually," he begins, the hesitance in his voice making Castle stand up straighter. "There is something that you can do."

* * *

 **A/N: I would like to mention that this story deals with PTSD, in case that may be a trigger for anyone.**

 **Here it is, my first contribution to the world of multi-chapter fics!**

 **This story actually started out as a one-shot, but then grew a life of its own and a rather big plot, so I just decided to roll with it. The whole fic is** **completely written already, so I'll try to figure out a regular posting schedule so that you guys know when to expect updates.**

 **Apologies for any mistakes I may have missed, and I hope you enjoy reading the latest edition of my 'brain ramblings'.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

* * *

Castle grips the steering wheel with both hands, nerves eating away at him as he pulls up to the gravelled driveway of the cabin, the crunching of stones mixing with the slosh of puddles beneath the tyres as rain pours steadily onto the windshield, a comforting rhythm that helps to fill the silence now that he's out of the city.

There had been a car lurking behind him for some of the journey, a black SUV that he couldn't help but find suspicious. It's probably just his time spent with Beckett making him paranoid though, because the car turned off the road a little further down from the cabin not long ago. Still, with the amount of jitteriness he's already feeling, he can't help being relieved now that it's gone.

Jim Beckett's request for him to stay at the cabin for a few days so Kate won't be alone is more than he could have hoped for; her absence from his life affecting him in ways he can't even understand. How can someone be so woven into the fabrics of another person's life that being away from them makes every little thing seem wrong?

The small cabin is huddled between the trees, canopies of green shielding it from prying eyes and disruption from the rest of the world. The lack of other houses nearby gives it a serene sense of privacy, and a dirt path leading down to the bank of the large lake he's just driven around conjures images of a little Katie Beckett and her father fishing during summer days spent down here.

Smiling at the thought, he parks up, remaining still for a moment and pauses to think while he's still inside the sanctuary of his Mercedes.

Kate is inside that cabin.

Ever since leaving her in the hospital, he's ached to see her again, see her living and breathing just to reaffirm the fact that she survived. He knows that recovering from a gunshot wound can be nothing less than gruelling, but he hopes that he'll be able to help ease the pressure off of her healing heart, put it back together by offering pieces of his own.

He can't help but think of Josh though. The surgeon might be busy with work, but he's surely been here to help whenever the opportunity allows. What does he think of his girlfriend's partner coming out here?

" _This is your fault!"_

Castle closes his eyes against the venomous words thrown at him that day, feels the guilt set in at the memory.

He gets out of the car, opens himself up to the spitting rain before he can think too much about how little he deserves to be here after everything he's done. He steps around the larger puddles, sheltered more by the rain here thanks to the overhanging branches of the surrounding trees, and makes his way towards the porch.

Jim is at the entrance, waiting for him with a warm smile.

"Rick," he greets, holding out a hand for him to shake. "Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for asking me to," he replies, returning the gesture as he grasps the older man's hand firmly. He trusts maybe a handful of people to care for Alexis when she's ill, and her own mother probably wouldn't even be included, so he's fully aware of how difficult this must be for Jim.

He leads Castle inside, gesturing with his arm, and he makes sure to dry his feet on the door mat, shake off the stray raindrops brushing his clothes, before stepping in. The cabin seems to be made up of a main living space with the couch and kitchen area, and there's a small hallway on his right where he assumes the doors to the bedrooms are.

The whole place seems to have a kind of rustic, woodsy vibe, with worn but homely furniture made up of differing shades of greens, beiges and browns. There's a comforting feel to the place, and he wonders if Jim hasn't felt the need to redecorate in the years he's owned the cabin.

"Well, you may not be thanking me when she wakes up and realises you're here, I'm afraid," the older man sighs.

Castle pauses. "She doesn't know that I'm here?"

Jim shifts his feet, visibly uncomfortable all of a sudden. "I was going to tell her this morning, but she's actually managing to get a decent amount of sleep, and I couldn't bring myself to wake her."

He sighs, shaking his head. This may not bode too well for him, but he can't begrudge Jim for doing what's best for his daughter, not when he'd do the same thing for both Alexis and Kate himself. "No, Jim," he reassures him. "It's fine, I completely understand."

Jim nods, and then begins to fill him in on anything he might need to help Beckett with during the next couple of days. He takes all of the information in the best he can, typing in some notes on his phone to be sure, before reassuring Jim he'll do his best to help.

"Also," he starts, needing to get this out. "I wanted to apologise for everything. For not being able to make her stop investigating this and-"

"Rick," Jim cuts him off sternly. "I know my daughter, and I know that almost nothing can stop her or help her see sense when it comes to this case. What Josh Davidson said to you in that hospital came from panic, not truth. None of this is your fault."

He releases a shuddering breath, not realising how much he'd needed to hear that. Nodding, he blinks back the wave of emotion surging up inside him.

Jim looks at him, understanding shining in his eyes. "Her bedroom's the first door on the right, just down that corridor," he gestures, picking the handle of his suitcase up and making his way towards the door.

Castle waves Jim off before shutting the door behind him. He takes a moment to pause, listen to the calming silence around him, nothing but the pattering of rain outside and the birds chirping from nearby trees.

He turns towards the hallway, seeing the light from the midday sun leaking through an open door, casting a glow over the wooden floorboards. He inches towards it, the light like a siren's call, drawing him towards Kate Beckett's bedroom.

He's transfixed. A statue in the doorway when he spots her.

Kate's bed is against the far wall, underneath the single window beaming sunlight into the room, painting shadowed streaks onto the floor from the rain outside. He can see the line of her profile where she's sleeping on her back, arms flung up around her head and her hair splaying on the pillow like a halo.

Quietly he steps over the threshold, careful not to stand on a creaky part of the floorboards as he slowly moves closer. Too many weeks without seeing her, and he can't go another moment.

She looks peaceful as she sleeps, but he can see a tightness to her jaw, the slightest pinch to her eyes. Her cheeks have sunken in, skin still thin and pale, and if it weren't for the faint flush to her cheeks or the rise of her chest as she breathes, her likeness to bodies they find in the morgues would be enough to send him into a spiral of panic. A tragic sleeping beauty bathed in the ethereal glow of the sunlight.

She lets out a small sigh that has his lips twitching up in a smile, and he suddenly feels like a creeper. He knows, that gunshot to the chest or not, Beckett will kick his ass all the way to next week if she wakes to find him watching her sleep.

Retreating from the bedroom with one last glance at her, his body feels warmer, more at ease than it has in a long time now that he can see her again. He sets about unpacking his belongings until she wakes up and he can break the news to her that he'll be her cabin buddy for the next few days.

* * *

Castle's sitting on the couch, checking out the competition and reading Patterson's latest novel ( _'Heat Rises' is_ so _much better)_ , when he hears it.

A strangled yelp, followed by a _thud_ of something hitting the floor, and he's on his feet in seconds, tossing his book to the side and racing towards Beckett's bedroom.

She's on her knees, next to her bed with a hand clutched to her chest, gripping the grey t-shirt hanging from her frame. Eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched, and body wracked with sobs that he can tell she's trying to fight back, with her other hand reaching upwards, hanging onto the edge of the bed side table with her fingertips.

 _Shit, her pain meds_.

"Beckett," he calls out, rushing into the room. He kneels down next to her, wincing as his knees crash to the wood of the floor. "Hey, you alright?"

Her eyes fly open, and she startles when she sees him, throwing herself backwards so that she's cornered in by the bed and the side cabinet. It must hurt her even more, because he can see the flash of pain flaring behind her eyes amongst the panic.

"C-Castle?" she heaves out, staring up at him with wild eyes. "You can't-" Her breathing is picking up and she speaks through gasps. "What...why are you here?"

Opening his mouth to answer, he shifts forward and reaches an arm out to her. She shies away instantly, pushing herself further into the nook she's created. He pushes down the hurt that rises in him, knowing that she's in a fragile state right now, and is more than likely overstimulated with the pain. "Beckett-"

" _No!"_ she squeezes her eyes shut, lifting her hands as her breathing quickens to panicked rasps that he doubts are actually getting air to her lungs. "I can't, I _can't-"_

He's pretty sure she's having a panic attack, like when she was on the phone to him the other night. Does Jim know about these? How long has she been going through this on her own?

His unexpected arrival might have caught her off guard, reminded her of that awful day in the cemetery, and he curses himself for his carelessness.

"Hey, Kate," he shuffles closer, slowly so that he doesn't panic her anymore. "It's alright, you're okay." He risks reaching out to touch her arm, and this time she merely flinches at the contact, doesn't push him away.

Her skin is thin to the touch, as if a sheet of paper is the only layer of protection her body has right now. "Just try to breathe. In and out," he demonstrates a couple of big breaths. "Think you can do that for me?"

"I know- I know how to _breathe_ , Castle," she gasps, and he lets out a desperate laugh of relief, glad to hear his Beckett coming through again.

Leaning forward, he presses his forehead to hers, stroking a thumb soothingly across the hand he's taken hold of, releasing its grip from her chest, while the other one tangles itself in the silky strands of her hair.

They stay like that, alone on her bedroom floor until her gasps ease slightly, mimicking the purposely slow breaths he's been taking. Slowly, he reaches an arm above her to the pills on top of the cabinet, the ones she'd been trying to reach. He tries not to think about how much pain she must be in to need them so badly, and brings both the pills and then the glass of water down next to them, careful not to spill anything.

She takes them from him wordlessly, face white with pain, a sheen of sweat coating her skin. Once she's swallowed the required amount, she shifts to look up at him.

"So," she raises an eyebrow at him, a gesture so familiar that it almost brings tears to his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He blanks for a second, marvelling at how intimidating she can sound, even in so much pain.

"Uh, y-your dad," he explains inelegantly. "Your dad needs someone to be here while he's gone." He carefully avoids adding 'to take care of you', knowing that it'll only fuel her anger.

Still, she narrows her eyes at him, growling under her breath. "I don't need to be babysat, Castle."

"You're not being babysat."

"I _told_ him," she shakes her head in frustration, talking more to herself than him. "I told him I'd be fine."

He opens his jaw, mouth reacting before his brain can catch up, and he's about to say something stupid in reference to the last few minutes, but thankfully she saves him from himself with a harsh, knowing glare.

"Please, Castle," she says, and he can see her eyelids starting to flutter. The medication must already be starting to take effect. "I can't do this right now. I can't fall asleep in the middle of an argument with you."

He smiles at her fondly, despite her words, and nods his head as she resigns, at least for the moment.

"Alright," he tells her, taking hold of her arm. "Bed?"

She nods, falling forwards against him. He helps her up gently, guiding her back towards the rumpled sheets of her bed. The fact that she's allowing him to help with the strangely intimate act of putting her to bed sends a fuse of warmth through him, and also tells him that she's completely out of it.

She's falling into unconsciousness the second her head hits the pillow, a relieved sigh escaping her lips that hopefully means her pain has started to ease. She still has hold of his shirt, weakly gripping the material in her fist. Gently, he unwraps her fingers, not being able to resist dropping a kiss to the soft skin of her palm, before retreating out of the room, leaving her to rest before the inevitable confrontation when she's regained her senses.

* * *

When Kate wakes up, it's to the angry growl of her stomach, her insides twisting uncomfortably as they remind her that her screwed up body clock has caused her to sleep through meal times today. She braces herself for the now familiar twinge of pain as she rolls over, away from the light blinding her eyes through the windows, but thankfully her body seems to have been numbed slightly thanks to her medication.

After she'd woken up, maybe a few hours ago now judging from the position of the sun, her body had been seized up, wound tight with pain lacing through her veins. In her effort to reach for the pills she should have taken hours earlier, caving under the intense agony, she had toppled out of her bed. Her knees smashed hard into the floorboards, jarring her teeth and rattling her bones, and the black wave of pain that washed over her had nearly knocked her out.

The next thing she became aware of was Castle. The sight of her partner kneeling next to her was a shock to her system, and his presence confused her fragile mind into remembering the last time his blue eyes had looked at her with such concern, and the pain burning in her chest became sharper, as if another sniper's bullet had just imbedded itself within her heart.

Now though, the combination of pain pills and sleep have eased her body up, relaxing her muscles and the throbbing beneath her skin, enough so that she should be okay for a while. She needs food, but leaving her bedroom also means that she'll need to face her partner.

She grumbles under her breath at the thought, thoroughly pissed that her father called Castle despite her vehement request not to. Rationally, she knows that episodes like the one she experienced earlier are the reason she isn't supposed to be left alone right now, and that her partner was likely the only available option, but her pride is taking a serious beating right now.

Throwing off the sheets, she gingerly slides her body out of bed, bare feet tapping on the floor, wood warmed by the sun. She takes a breath before pushing herself up cautiously, swaying slightly as her head rushes. Carefully, she takes small steps, concentrating on moving one foot and then the other while she supports herself on the furniture and makes her way to the door.

Poking her head out into the hallway, she can see Castle's profile, his body leaning back against the cushions of the couch as he flicks through the pages of the book in front of him. It makes her breath catch in her throat.

He's really here.

It hadn't been her imagination before; he hadn't been a creation of her unsteady psyche. Castle has really come here for her.

Her previous anger melts away at the sight of him, infusing her with a warmth that she hasn't felt in weeks, thawing the ice she's felt bone deep inside her. She hasn't realised how much she's been missing him until right now, when he's sitting a few feet away from where she's standing.

Moving towards him, she pads along the floor with her bare feet, shrugging the sleeve of her shirt higher form where it's slipped off her shoulder. When Castle notices her approaching, he twists around, eyes brightening when he spots her.

She feels self-conscious suddenly, aware of the tangle of her hair as she tries to brush a hand through it, her overall appearance screaming: _'I just woke up'_.

Coughing, she clears her throat, but her voice still comes out as just a rasp. "Hey."

He sits up, dropping the book to his side with a bounce on the cushion. "Hey, how're you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess."

He stands up, trying to guide her towards the couch with a hand to her arm.

"Castle," she admonishes, attempting to shrug him off. Yes, _this_ is why she has a problem with him being here. She can't cope with him handling her with kid-gloves; she needs him to see her as the kick-ass detective in heels, not the broken shell of a person she feels she is now. "I'm not an invalid, I can sit down by myself."

She needs to be better, be the woman he deserves, the one he…loves.

"Sorry," he says, moving away from her, and she feels guilty when she notices the hurt lingering on his features. "It's just…what can I do to help?"

Watching him for a moment, she settles herself down on the couch. She can still feel the warmth from his body, imprinting on her own as it radiates from the cushions. There's a need in his eyes, to do something, to help her in some way. She wants to let him in, she just doesn't know how to yet.

She can make an effort to give him _something_ though.

"I should probably eat something," she says, just as her stomach growls impatiently.

It breaks the tension between them as they share a laugh, and her heart starts to thump harder at his smile. "Go get me some food, Castle."

He winks at her, motioning towards the kitchen behind her. "I'm on it."

* * *

 **A/N: So I didn't want to make you guys wait too long for the second chapter, and I'll probably have the next up soon as well to get the plot rolling.**

 **Thank you so much for reading and for all your lovely comments. Each and every one makes me smile, and I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.**

 **(Also, to the guest anon who very kindly left a comment from a medical perspective, I just want to assure you that the time frame you suggested was actually what I had originally written, but I was a little worried about it affecting something further on, and changed it at the last minute without thinking. I've edited it back now, so thank you for your comment and clarification because when I actually think about it, the original time frame makes more sense anyway! )**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

* * *

They sit in silence, Castle on the loveseat reading while she's curled up by the window again. Smart enough to remember cushioning this time, she watches the sun setting below the plane of trees now the rain's stopped, the bursts of orange touching the leaves and casting long shadows across the cabin.

She's surprised herself actually being able to keep down the dinner Castle prepared for her, and the two of them managed to engage in easy enough conversation while they ate. But now a weird tension has settled between them, falling over them like the sun setting over the horizon.

She's still annoyed that he's even here at all, that he invaded her privacy by ignoring the clear demands she gave him that day he left her in the hospital.

" _I'll call you, okay?"_

But was she actually going to? Probably not if she's being completely honest with herself. She'd be too scared to drag him down here with her, into the pits of darkness that have held her in their grip since she was shot.

Really though, part of her had been expecting this. For him to show up here without her permission, like he does in every other aspect of her life.

Smothering a grin behind her hand as she presses her forehead against the cool glass of the window, she stares off the day as the sun finally disappears behind the canopy of ash trees. She can't even deny the embers of joy burning beneath the surface at seeing him again, at her selfish gratitude that he doesn't seem to mind sinking into the darkness with her.

"Where are Alexis and Martha?" she asks, suddenly struck with the question. "You didn't leave them did you?"

Castle lifts his head up, placing the book on his lap as he leans back against the cushions. "They've gone to the Hamptons for the summer."

Some unknown expression, one that she can't quite decipher crosses over his face, and it's enough to peak her curiosity.

"Why aren't you with them?"

He looks up at her, eyes full of meaning as they stare into her.

 _Because of you._ The question goes unsaid, but she can't help but hear it as if he's yelling into her ears.

She averts her gaze, staring at the hands folded on her lap, twisting them together uneasily. Shuffling slightly on her seat, she winces as she pulls the scar again, but the ache seems to penetrate further this time, the weight of guilt she's carrying around with her making her feel worn and tired, more so than usual.

"You were never going to call, were you?" his voice rings in the silence of the cabin, the quiet of the night making it sound too loud. "Well, intentionally anyway."

She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to block out the blame she knowns she deserves. Her hair falls in wayward curls around her, the strands hiding her from the world for a few precious seconds, helping her run from her issues when she doesn't have the ability to physically do so yet.

"Yeah," she hears the defeated mutter, the heavy sigh that makes her eyes open. "That's what I thought."

Lifting her head, she watches hopelessly as he gets up from the couch and turns his back on her, walking away towards the back bedroom. Wait, this isn't how she wanted this to go-

Castle pauses for a moment, shoulders drooping as he looks over his shoulder at her. "Do you need me to help with anything else tonight?"

Her first instinct is to shake her head, the automatic need to refuse all aid rising before she can stop it. She regrets the action immediately, watching his eyes dim and he nods to himself, almost as if he expected this from her.

 _Have you ever given him a reason not to?_

She opens her mouth to stop him retreating to the spare bedroom, not being able to handle the look of utter defeat written plainly across his face, as if he's too exhausted to hide it anymore. God, what has she _done_ to him?

Frozen, she sits there, not knowing how to fix this, not having the energy to try mending both herself and the wonderful man who gave her his heart when her own stopped working.

She's left alone, sitting on the window seat that gave her the solitude she loved so much as a little girl. But she doesn't want that anymore; she wants to be sitting here with him. The thought startles her so much that she finds herself stumbling away from the window, out of the seat in a vain attempt to chase after him.

As soon as she moves, she hears a sharp _whoosh_ of air, and the smash of splintering glass as a bullet wizzes past her ear.

* * *

The world erupts into chaos.

Castle spins around on his heels at Beckett's scream, the sound piercing through him like a blade, and he stumbles over himself to run back to her.

She's cowering on the floor, ducking below the window as she stares up at him, horrified. He notices the smashed glass, cracks spider-webbing from a hole in the centre a moment too late.

" _Castle, get down!"_

He drops to the floor, the terror lacing her words causing him to react without thinking, a second before a barrage of bullets come shooting through the window.

" _Shit,"_ he raises his elbows, shielding himself against the shards of debris falling around him, crawling on his knees towards his partner beneath the window. Reaching her, he throws himself over the crumpled form of her body, risking a quick glance upwards when the firing ceases so that he can see what the _hell_ is going on out there.

His stomach drops when he spots the same vehicle that had been trailing behind him on the way over here, now parked just down the road. "Beckett, there's a black SUV out front."

" _What?"_ she rasps, clinging onto him as she tries to pull her body up and see for herself.

He tightens his grip on her though, pulling her towards him and halting her movements as he ignores her growl of protest. "Stay down," he orders, squinting to get a better look himself. "It's you they're probably after." There's a group of silhouettes lurking in the shadows down the gravelled driveway, not far at all from the cabin. He can see the guns they're each carrying, large bulks at their sides as they start advancing towards them. They've already blown the tyres on his Mercedes. "We need to get out of here."

"No shit."

Turning to glare at her, she suddenly yanks him downwards at the sound of more rapid fire. He crowds into her, rolling them both out the way of shattering glass raining down around them, sheltering them behind the couch.

She hisses, crying out quietly at the move, _careful you idiot;_ _she's injured,_ and he quickly glances down at her, seeing her press a palm firmly to the surgical scar on her side. "Sorry, sorry," he apologises, whispering against her hair as he cradles her neck, still trying to press her to the floor with his own body, protect her from the bullets and glass tearing through the cabin. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

The feel of her fingers, thin and frail, but still so soft, brush against the skin of his cheek as she lifts her hand in unvoiced forgiveness. With a quick press of his lips to her hair, he hesitantly lifts himself off her, helping her sit up behind the couch. There's another break in gunfire, but he's sure they'll be on their way up here sooner rather than later.

"Beckett," he grips her shoulder. She looks dazed, pupils glassy, and he realises her breathing has picked up to unsteady gasps, her palm clammy when he takes hold of it in his own. "Kate," he calls to her, louder now. She can't have a panic attack while they're stuck in here.

Her hand clasps his tightly, eyes squeezed shut as she visibly struggles to slow her breathing. "Kate, we're going to get out of here, okay?" he murmurs, voice desperate as he looks over his shoulder towards the door again, expecting the gunmen to burst through any minute now. "I just need you to calm down so we can work out a plan."

"Car," she speaks through the clench of her teeth, fisting a handful of his shirt. "My dad…he has a car out back."

His eyes widen, and he glances over her towards the back door. They might not have circled the cabin yet, giving them a chance to make an escape before they're surrounded.

"Okay, that's great," he breathes out, chest heaving with pent up adrenaline. He moves to pick her up bridal style, but she shakes him off. "I don't want you to hurt yourself anymore," he explains, desperate to convince her to be reasonable and let him _help_ , just this once. "So can you _please_ let me carry you out there?"

Beckett stares up at him for a moment, one that seems way too long for this situation. Sighing, she nods weakly as she sags against his shoulder, and he starts to panic about how injured she is right now, how this is inevitably going to make things worse.

At least they won't be dead, though.

The thought spurs him on, and he crouches, bracing himself before he hauls her up into his arms, startling slightly at the noticeable drop in her weight. Jeez, she's not much more than skin and hard edges right now, hardly any muscle to speak of. They seem to have stopped shooting, so he takes the chance, dashing to the back door, swinging it open as he runs out onto the porch.

It's too dark to see well, the blanket of night already laying heavily over their surroundings, but he manages to make out the outline of Jim Beckett's car, sheltered by the branches of a large oak tree, and he starts down the steps. He tries to be wary of jarring the injured detective in his arms as he bounds down the old stairs, mindful not to slip on the rain soaked wood as it creaks under his weight, but she suddenly gasps, clenching his bicep in a vice-like grip.

Halting, he gives her a concerned once-over, thinking that he's hurt her, but she shoves at him, her wild eyes fixed on something to his left. "Castle, watch out!"

A shot goes off, exploding tree bark from the shrub behind him. He spots the black shadow of the shooter, peeking around the edge of the porch as he points his weapon at them. They must have snuck around the back of the cabin.

Beckett jolts in his arms, and for a horrifying moment, he thinks she's been shot, and he checks her for blood as he sprints towards the salvation of the car. There's no blossoming of red that he can see, _thank goodness,_ and from the way she's clutching to him, he can only guess that it's more to do with the deafening _bang_ of shots being fired around them.

He dodges the spray of bullets, zig-zagging towards the car, and once they're protected by the cover of hanging branches, he throws open the conveniently unlocked door of the aging Caprice, dropping Beckett onto the back seat as he climbs into the driver's side.

Hot-wiring the car with a swift ease, despite the shaking of his limbs, he thinks that he's never been more grateful for deciding to study car theft for book research a few years ago.

"Hold on," he calls over the back seat as he buckles himself in, giving Beckett a moment to do the same. Groaning with age, the engine fires up, and Castle hastily puts it into drive, pressing his foot down onto the gas pedal hard to get it going. He drives straight, smashing through overgrown shrubs and braches, heading right towards the gunman.

The man screams when the car clips him on the way past, but Castle doesn't care, just carries on driving around the cabin, trying to get them back on the road and out of here. Noise from the guy that's already been taken out attracts the attention of the others, still guarding the front of the cabin, and he sees them raising their weapons towards them again.

"Beckett, get down!" he ducks, just as the glass around them smashes, tiny shards littering his shoulders as he tries to barrel the car through them, waiting until it's safe to sit up again. "You alright?"

"Yeah," her weak croak comes from behind him, and when he risks a quick look over his shoulder, he sees her lying on her side across the back seats, face pale and drawn, mouth tight with obvious pain. "Mm' fine."

The car bounces harshly when he gets them on the gravelled road again, and he hears her groan, making his gut twinge. "You're doing great, Beckett," he tells her, trying to sooth her with his words while he can't physically touch her right now. "Just hang on a little longer, okay?"

She doesn't reply, but he carries on down the road, pushing his foot against the gas pedal as far as it will allow on the unsteady terrain. He hears the roar of an engine behind him, and a flickering glance to his rear view mirror shows the black SUV advancing on them, wheels spraying gravel as they speed closer.

"Castle," he hears her murmur, voice so feeble he can barely catch her voice over the assaulting noises from all other angles. They're gaining on them rapidly. _Too_ rapidly.

"Shit," he curses, gritting his teeth as he clenches the wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white with the effort. "This is my fault; I saw that car follow me out here but I never thought-"

" _Castle,"_ she growls, voice stronger. "This is so _not_ the time."

"Right," he bobs his head, swallowing thickly. "Sorry."

He hears her shuffling about in the back, and he sees in the mirror that she's sitting up, albeit shakily, looking out through the rear window. They've moved on to smoother tarmac now, and he finds the car easier manoeuvre, managing to speed up slightly.

Hoping that they've gained a bit more headway, Castle keeps his eyes fixed on the tarmac in front of him, focusing on the way forward, and nothing else.

"Castle, they're catching up," her voice, laced with held back panic, makes him nervous, but he doesn't turn to look, instead trying to force an extra inch with the speed.

The blur of the night in front of him is making his eyes swim, but he doesn't falter, just keeps them moving forward as he focuses on nothing but getting his partner to safety. These guys must have been hired by whoever murdered her mother, cleaning up the mess left behind by the sniper.

But he won't let them get close enough.

" _Castle,"_ her voice holds a tone of warning, making him nervous enough to look back and see the looming image of the SUV right behind them.

He wills the car faster, pressing his foot flat as far as it'll go against the pedal, begging the aging vehicle to just _go faster._

" _Castle!"_

He has less than a second to brace himself before he feels the bone-crunching impact of the SUV crashing into them from behind, throwing them forward. Combined with the speed they're going, the contact makes him lose control, and the Caprice swerves dangerously, the car refusing to obey the orders of the steering wheel as it veers perilously close to the edge of the road, just above the large embankment leading down to the surrounding woods.

Suddenly, he realises with a terrifying clarity that they're going to go over.

"Beckett," he calls to her when the second vehicle bashes them again. "Hang on!"

And with that, he feels another jolt.

Beckett cries out as they go over the edge, suspended in mid-air as the fly down the hill, the car tumbling down through the trees as he tries in a futile effort to control it. There's a trunk rapidly approaching them that he has no hope of avoiding.

He closes his eyes and braces for impact.

* * *

 _AN: Annnd, this is the part where I decided to shake things up a bit._

 _I'm probably going to be updating this twice a week from now on, so the next chapter should be up in a few days._

 _Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this and for all your wonderful comments!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

* * *

Beckett blinks her eyes open, groaning at the deep ache thrumming through her veins, all over her body. There's nothing but black above her, and she's so dazed for a moment that she completely forgets where she is.

Something wet and sticky is running down her cheek, and she raises a trembling hand, the slickness coming back red on her fingertips. Has she been shot again?

Deliriously, she reaches down to investigate the ache of her scar underneath the loose shirt she's wearing. It feels rough, and still foreign to her touch, but doesn't seem to be gaping open.

 _Then what-_

She gasps in a harsh breath when she turns her head, seeing Castle's body slumped over the steering wheel from where she's lying across the back seats.

It all comes back to her in startlingly vivid detail. Shooters. Car chase. Being run off the road.

They're sitting ducks right now.

"Castle," she calls, praying that he's okay. "Castle, can you hear me?"

He doesn't answer her, doesn't move from the awkward hunch he's positioned in over the dashboard, the trunk of a large tree that's crushed the hood of the car filling her sight through the windshield.

She pulls herself up and unbuckles the seatbelt, fighting against the sharp pain pinpricking every inch of her as she leans over to the front seats. His face is slack, eyes closed, and she can see the deep bloody gash painting his forehead, the grey of bruises forming underneath his skin on his cheek.

Her hand is shaking when she lifts it towards him, reaching to brush the flop of hair back from his face as she tries to calm herself. "Come on, Castle," she whispers, tears starting to clog her throat. "You need to wake up."

A quick check of his pulse reveals a slow but steady rhythm, and she almost collapses in relief.

Suddenly, the growling engine of the SUV at the top of the embankment reaches her ears. "Oh no," she breathes out, gripping his arm.

Thankfully they're hidden by trees, so they won't be able to find them yet, but it won't be long before they locate the car and check for their bodies. "Castle, we need to _go._ I need you to wake up for me, please."

He murmurs something under his breath, his chest rumbling beneath her hand. _Oh, thank God._

"Hey, that's it," she wipes the tear she can feel running down her cheek, irritating the cut that's still throbbing, but she's not able to stop the eased smile growing on her face, even with the sting. "Come on, open your eyes for me."

"Urgh," he grunts, brows creasing as he squeezes his closed eyes tighter, shifting slightly. She heaves a sigh of relief, dropping her head to his shoulder. A few moments later, she feels his head turn towards her, the brush of his hand at her temple. "You okay?"

She laughs somewhat hysterically, the sound mixing in with the grief she had started to feel. "I should be asking you that."

Castle gives her a small smile, and then turns away, kicking his foot into the door to open it.

It gives way easily, the old hinges no match for the strength of adrenaline, and he stands up slowly, swaying slightly, before coming around to help her out of the car. The pain is becoming more acute now, burning fire beneath her skin, aching bruises feeling as though they're covering her from head to toe.

It's so bad that she curses under her breath when she has to cling onto him, not being able to walk without limping. She doesn't even have access to her pain meds to take the edge off.

The twisting branches overhead block out any light from the moon, and they're submerged in darkness as they stumble away from the car, deeper under the cover of the woods. Her feet are bare, the loose stones and roots on the ground poking at her feet uncomfortably, but she carries on, refusing to slow them down any more as they trudge forward into the black nothingness before them.

She fears she may have gone into slight shock when the pain starts fading to an uneasy numbness that makes her limbs feel cold, detached from her body. The utter chaos of the last hour has completely disorientated her, the shooting of guns forcing back memories she isn't ready to face yet, and the effort of trying to stem her panic is costing her dearly with the exhaustion she feels.

Silence surrounds them, nothing but the crunch of twigs beneath their feet, and it's a welcome contrast to the assault of noise the gunfire had created. Still, she keeps checking behind her, over Castle's shoulder where he's helping to keep her upright, expecting to see the barrels of guns pointing towards them at any given moment.

How on earth are they supposed to get out of this? They've just crashed in the middle of nowhere, with hired killers hot on their tail and both of them are injured and probably won't make it far without help. And to make things worse, she isn't even wearing any _freaking_ shoes.

She can feel the pangs of anxiety rising in the pits of her stomach, the way her still healing heart starts thumping harder in her chest, making her feel weak and light headed as her lungs start fighting for air. Distantly, she can feel Castle gripping her arm tighter, shaking her slightly.

"Hey, Kate," he nudges her, sounding worried as he takes on more of her weight. She's finding it difficult to keep standing on her own. "Come on, stay with me; we're going to be fine."

The black of night filling her vision starts blurring slightly purple around the edges, and she's sure that if it were light enough her eyesight would be tunnelling. Her knees drop out from under her suddenly, feeling as though they've been cut off halfway down her legs.

"Whoa," Castle grunts, catching her underneath her arms as she clings to him, fighting with every ounce of her strength to stay upright and not just collapse on the forest floor. She wants to curl up and go to sleep, but if she lies down, she doesn't think she'll have it in her to get back up again.

"It's alright," his voice is muffled, almost as though he's speaking through a pillow. Why does he sound so far away? "You're okay. I've got you, Kate."

Her head is swimming, a wave of nausea overwhelming her as she clings to his shirt, burying her head against his chest as he holds her up. It feels like she has pins and needles everywhere at once, and she whimpers pathetically at the sensation, cursing herself silently for the outcry of weakness, but she can't seem to do anything to stop it.

"I need to sit," she squeezes her eyes shut, panting into the material of his shirt, feeling herself drop as gravity makes her sag towards the cold ground. "Castle, I want to sit down."

"Okay, okay," he soothes, and she can tell he's lowering his knees, holding her to him as they kneel on the dirt below them. They sit there for a moment as she presses her forehead hard against his shoulder, and she tries to focus on the warmth of his arms around her, rather than the sweeping vertigo she's been overcome with.

She pants out shaky breaths, in and out, and she's just starting to feel solid again, no longer like her body's been liquefied and bones turned to mush, when Castle startles.

The static buzzing around her head fades enough that she can hear it too, the sound of rustling branches, footfalls snapping twigs too heavily for any animal. She opens her eyes and looks up at her partner, seeing the panic written across his face as her eyes adjust to the dark.

Their eyes meet, and before she has a chance to protest, Castle scoops her up from underneath her knees, standing as he carries her bridal style. The movement jostles her, and she lets out a small yelp at the shooting pain up her side. She clamps her hand over her mouth to try to stifle the sound, not wanting to attract attention.

Castle sets off, running forward as if he's not at all affected by the added weight of her, and she clings to him, watching the black streaks of trees blur past them as he takes them further into the woods. She only hopes that the sound of his feet hitting the dirt won't travel to the men hunting them down.

Wind is whipping against her face, cold air rustling the mess of her hair, and she burrows her face against Castle's shoulder, breathing through the bone deep ache that is pulsing through her. She tries to stay calm, not think about the fact they are both lost in the middle of the woods at night, being hunted down like foxes, defenceless against the men armed with guns chasing them.

Outrunning them isn't going to work for long, not with her injured state and Castle's depleting strength. They need to hide.

The sound of rushing water suddenly reaches her ears, and she lifts her head up, blinks into the dark to make out the small stream running alongside them now. Castle's stopped, his chest rising rapidly beneath her, heart pumping wildly in his chest as she feels the muscles in his arms starting to quake under her weight.

He's not going to be able to carry her for much longer.

"Castle," she lifts her hand, brushing her fingers gently to his chin to get his attention. He glances down to her, looking panicked and startled, like he's at loss with what to do. "We need to stop."

He shakes his head vehemently. "No," he says firmly, gripping her tighter towards his chest. "I'm not letting them get you, Beckett."

"I know, I know," she calms him, hand flat against the furious beating of his heart. "But I think I have an idea."

* * *

Castle huffs, squinting his eyes as he looks skyward, scanning the trees above them for what they are both so desperately looking for.

"Are you sure it's over here?" he asks the detective in his arms, trying not to let the desperation he feels seep through his words. He knows they don't have much time.

She nods against him, the soft wisps of her hair brushing his chin. "Yeah," she sighs, too exhausted to raise her voice anymore. "There's only one stream this shallow near the cabin, and my Dad thought that this would be the safest place to build it because it isn't too close to the lake."

He prays that she's right, otherwise they'll have lost valuable time walking around here when they could be trying to get away.

The leaves blur into streaks as he whips his head around, spinning on the spot to try to find anything, and he's about to reluctantly tell Beckett that this is hopeless, when he suddenly notices an odd shape in the large oak tree before them.

He moves closer, trying not to get his hopes up, but then he sees it.

A tree house.

The outline is faint in the cover of darkness, the growth of thick branches and leaves over the years providing the camouflage as it blends into the surrounding foliage. It's small, just big enough for little Beckett to play in while her dad went fishing in the large lake not far away from here.

It's the perfect hiding place, only visible if you're looking for it, and he almost cries with relief when he sees that the rope ladder, swaying in the slight breeze, is still lowered to the ground.

The only problem now is trying to get up there.

He furrows his brow, thinking about the best way to go through with this, when he hears a booming yell echo from behind them. Staggering, he turns towards the sound, Beckett clenching his arm, and the two of them freeze.

"Castle," she whispers in warning, staring off into the black.

His arms tighten around her, and he leans down to her ear, trying to remain as still as possible. "You're going to have to climb," he tells her hesitantly, aware of how this will be nearly impossible for her, but they don't have any other options. "I'll be right behind you."

She looks at him, eyes wide, before slowly shifting her gaze to the rope ladder leading up into the tree before them. He sees the flash of determination before she begins struggling to get down from his arms.

He lets her go, giving her as much of a boost as he can by lifting her up to a rung higher off the floor. She grips onto the wood, and he quickly climbs up behind her, worried that she's going to fall back off. Squeezing her waist, he silently urges her to get moving, because he can hear the rustling of the gunmen rapidly approaching them, making his panic start skyrocketing.

As she reaches up for the next rung, he holds his breath, doing his best to keep the rope ladder steady. She's wincing with the effort, her body shaking, but she grabs on with one hand. He tries to take some of her weight and help lift her as she begins pulling herself up.

" _Shit,"_ she gasps out, faltering slightly, and he braces himself to keep her there. "Oh, shit that hurts."

He presses his forehead against her lower back, trembling with the rushing adrenaline and panic that's threatening to overwhelm his system. He doesn't speak, doesn't want to risk distracting her from the laborious task of climbing the ladder to hide.

The sounds are getting closer, and her muscles are quivering before him as she tries desperately to climb. It kills him that she must be in so much pain right now, but they don't have a choice.

She stops abruptly, panting out heaving gasps as she rests her head on the wood of the rung. They're close to the top now, too close to stop.

"Come on, Beckett," he nudges her side, trying to give her a boost, and she cries out. He curses, worried that the sound will carry to their trackers. "Go," he orders, hating himself but seeing nothing else he can do. "Beckett, get moving."

A trembling exhale hits his ears as she reaches to lift herself to the next step, and he ignores the strain of his arms as he hoists her up to finally reach the floor of the tree house. His shoulders droop in relief when he sees her disappear over the edge, crawling in, and he quickly climbs the rest of the way up, pulling the ladder after him once he's inside.

Once he's certain they'll have no way of reaching them, he turns on his knees, searching through the cramped dark space for his partner.

His heart breaks a little when he finds her.

She's curled up on the wooden floor in a foetal position, shaking with silent sobs that wrack her shoulders, and he crawls over to her.

He lowers himself closer to her, running a hand through her hair to push back the wet strands sticking to her cheeks. Brushing away the tears with his thumb, he gathers her up, mindful not to hurt her any more, as he shuffles them away from the little window built in the wood and instead moves them towards the far corner.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into her hair, and she grips the collar of his shirt tightly in her fist, knuckles turning white as she buries her face against his neck. "I'm so sorry, Kate."

She snuffles, breath hiccupping in her chest, and he just wants to be able to do something, _anything,_ to take the pain away from her. "You did so great, sweetheart."

Feeling hopeless, he just continues to cradle her to him, sitting up against the back of the tree house with her curled into his lap, her long legs draped sideways over his. Eventually, her breathing begins to even out, slowing down in time with her sobs which have thankfully reduced to stuttering gasps now, and he feels the flutter of her eyelashes against his neck.

Her hand moves upwards, releasing the material of his shirt as it travels to the back of his neck, stroking the skin there softly, almost self-soothing in the way it seems to relax her.

Thinking that she might be okay now, he releases a heavy exhale, shoulders sagging under the weight of stress, when he hears the chilling sounds of heavy foot falls approaching the ground beneath them.

Beckett stiffens in his arms, muscles tense, and his spine straightens. She tilts her head to look up at him, and even in the bleary darkness he can still make out her wide eyes searching for him, red-rimmed with fatigue and tears. She looks about as terrified as he feels, and he pulls her closer, pressing his forehead down to the soft skin of hers as they stare at one another, horror-stricken.

His breath is frozen in his lungs, too afraid to make any sounds that could alert the gunmen to them, the both of them utterly defenceless against the hired killers who are no doubt looking to kill them on sight.

" _Are you sure they went this way?"_

Beckett inhales sharply at the sound of voices directly underneath them, and he grips her hard in warning to stay quiet.

" _The fuck do I know, you idiot,"_ he hears another muffled voice travelling to them, the unmistakable click of a weapon's safety being turned off. " _You're the one who thought it'd be a great idea to run 'em off the road in the first place."_

Beckett's watching him, her large eyes black in the night as they stare up at him, doe-like and frightened. He wants to get her out of here, take her someplace safe where no one can ever harm her again. He wants to hold his daughter and see his mother, keep them next to him where he can see for himself that they're safe.

Because what if people have come for them as well? It's pretty obvious that he was the one they followed out here, after all.

" _The boss said that he wants her dead, he didn't specify how to get her that way."_

Her. They were still coming for _her._

If he ever finds the son of a bitch who's behind all of this, he'll kill him with his bare hands.

He closes his eyes, unclenching his fists as he tries to calm down, and he feels Beckett's nose brush against his own, so softly that he almost doesn't feel it. Lifting his hand to stroke her waist with his thumb, he tries to return his heart-rate to normal, grounding himself with the touch of her.

When he opens them again, he sees her in front of him, a watery smile decorating her cheeks as she blinks up at him, fingers running soothingly through his hair.

" _Bracken's a dick anyway,"_ another muffled voice grumbles up to them, and he feels Beckett stiffen, gaze flying to his wildly at the sound. Bracken. They have a name. " _If the money wasn't so good, I'd tell him to shove it."_

The men below them continue their arguing, and Castle strains his ears trying to hear any other pieces of information they might leak as they thankfully begin walking away. They remain still, huddled together in the corner of the dark treehouse, neither of them daring to breathe before they're certain the men are out of range.

Beckett moves first, shifting away from him slightly as she heaves out a shuddering sigh, running a hand through her dishevelled hair, before turning back to glance at him.

"Bracken," she whispers, hand trembling as she tucks the strands behind her ear.

He nods, feeling his heart ache for her. She doesn't deserve any of this. "I heard."

"No first name," she says, reaching out to touch the collar of his shirt again. "Think that we can still find him?"

His brow furrows, his chest tight as he thinks through the implications of her going after this guy again. He just wants to hide her somewhere, keep her safe so that she can heal and no one can ever touch her again. "I don't know."

She bites her lip, looking down, and he reaches out and pulls her towards him again, hugging her. Coming willingly, she flops against him, raising her arms to hook around his shoulders, her cheek resting against him. He breathes her in, the smell of woods and adrenaline mixing in with the ever present cherries, the familiar scent still faintly present and calming his nerves.

"We'll find them one day, Kate," he promises her, his cheek pressed against the silk of her hair. "Maybe not now, maybe not soon, but we will."

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks so much for the ongoing support, you really have no idea how much it means to me (also, thank you to all the guest reviewers, because I can't reply to you individually)._

 _I wrote this chapter listening to the lovely Evan Petruzzi's music- which if you haven't already checked out on iTunes, you should definitely go and listen to because it's wonderful and you will love it- so thank you, Evan!_

 _I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and the next one will be up in a few days!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

* * *

When the sun finally rises, Castle wakes to the assaulting burn to his retinas, squinting against the light shining through the cracks of wood in the treehouse, forcing him from a restless sleep to face the coming morning.

His back aches from the uncomfortable position he's been sleeping in for the couple of hours rest he's managed to get, still sat up against the corner of the hut, neck cricked awkwardly where it's hung limply as he slept. Groaning, he shifts, ignoring the dull twinges of pain covering his whole body. God, why on earth had he slept like this?

A quick glance down gives him his immediate answer.

Beckett's still curled up at his side; finally looking at peace as she rests in the welcoming arms of slumber. The early morning beams paint her face in a golden glow, the sun streaks in her hair and rosy hue to her cheeks making her look _alive_ for the first time since before the summer, and it warms his chest, making his heart thump happily as a smile twitches to form at his lips.

They hadn't dared to move from their chosen sanctuary last night, not wanting to risk running into the gunmen, and he also couldn't bear to put her through any more pain. So they slept here, trying to forget the traumas of the previous few hours, and rest while they could. He knows Beckett wants answers, the urge to hunt down her mother's killer had practically been thrumming through her, but thankfully she'd seen rationality and realised there's nothing they can do right now.

He reaches down for his pocket, pulling out the phone he hadn't had time to think about using last night.

No signal _._

Well, at least it hasn't been damaged.

Returning to the cabin isn't going to be an option if this 'Bracken' guy has ordered people to keep watch out there, so they'll have to try and find the closest civilization elsewhere.

Beckett shifts against his shoulder, the rush of her breath warm on his neck as she starts mumbling, trying to reach wakefulness. He watches her in amusement, glad to witness such an innocent act of normality while attempting to ignore the pang in his gut that the peace she's found is about to be interrupted again.

"Hmm," her brow furrows, eyelashes fluttering as big green eyes blink to open up at him, the sunlight making the brown ring around her iris glow golden. "Castle?"

"Hey," he smiles down at her, voice rough with disuse as his chest rumbles. "How do you feel?"

"Would lying be an acceptable way to answer this?"

"Nope."

She grumbles, eyes narrowing sleepily at him. It's more adorable than threatening, but he lets her have her moment. "I feel like I've been shot."

It's his turn to narrow his eyes at her. "That's not funny, Beckett."

Shrugging, she flops back against his side. "I wasn't joking."

He sighs, dropping his head against the rough wood at his back. They need to get out of here, find someplace safe and get some pain relief in her. He's struggling to believe that she's actually made it this far already.

"Would you know how to get us back to town from here?"

She's silent for a moment, deep in thought, before she lifts her head and responds. "I think I remember the way we used to walk to reach the village," she explains, brows creased as her eyes fix somewhere on the wall next to him. "It's not that long of a trek, maybe half an hour or so?"

He breathes out a heavy sigh of relief, the first embers of hope starting to burn within him again. But it's her he needs to worry about. "Do you think you'll be able to make it that far?"

She raises a challenging eyebrow at him. "I've made it this far, haven't I?"

The familiar spitfire burning from her makes him break out into an involuntary grin, his heart beating a little bit faster at the sight.

They're going to get through this.

* * *

After twenty minutes of limping across the dirt and twigs of the woods, pain aching from every movement, Beckett feels the burst of relief in her stomach when she finally sees the first inklings of civilisation, the edge of trees giving way to the light of the road, the clear areas bathed by full daylight rather than dappled patches of shade from leaves.

Castle has to support her around her shoulders to keep her from collapsing, and though she hates the display of weakness, it's not like she can do much about it while her muscles feel as though they're turning to jelly beneath her skin.

Besides, she kind of likes the warmth of him anyway.

The steep embankment, though a little shallower here, is almost too much for her, the loose soil and fight against gravity causing her scars to protest angrily, and she eventually just relents to allow Castle to carry her. It's not like she has much pride left anyhow.

Thankfully, he puts her down immediately when they reach the road again, and she sighs in contentment, the heat of the tarmac beneath her bare feet strangely comforting, the clear sky above a bright blue that brings the first grin to their faces in the past twenty-four hours.

Even longer for her, if she's being honest.

They follow the road until they reach a gas station that's not too far away, and she almost collapses onto the wooden benches outside, body sagging as the strain in her muscles finally leaves her.

She can tells that he's anxious with the both of them out here in the open, watching the way he's turning his body towards the building, scanning the horizon for any sign of a dark SUV, or people with strangely large bulges in their jackets.

They're hidden in the shade behind the station though, under the large trees on the green at the back, so they should be relatively well hidden for now. If she can just rest here for a while, eat and drink something, maybe get some pain relief and _shoes_ , then she should be good to go.

"Castle," she attempts to grab his attention, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket. He spins to face her, worry etched deeply into the lines of his face. "Calm down for a minute, we should be okay here."

He inhales shakily, running a hand through the rumpled mess of his hair. The haphazard strands sticking up in random directions, flopping over his forehead and hiding the cuts from the crash, make him look like a little boy, lost and confused. The bruises are more prominent now, blue and yellow marring his face. It makes her want to wrap her arms around him.

"Yeah," he breathes out, mostly to himself. "You're right. I'm just a bit on edge."

She smiles sadly up at him. "I know," she nods. "Me too."

Reaching out, he lightly strokes the side of her cheek, and she startles at the unexpected contact. But she realises that he's checking the shallow gash on the side of her face, his tentative touch inspecting the area so gently that she can barely feel the slight sting. "It's okay, Castle."

He nods, accepting her answer, and helps her to stand again, guiding her inside the gas station with a hand held surreptitiously to her back. Anyone inside will probably see them as suspicious: two people, bruised and battered from a long chase and a night spent in the woods, and the fact she's not wearing shoes probably won't help either.

The ding from the bell signals their entrance to the clerk at the cashier, a stocky little man who pushes his glasses up his nose curiously when he spots them. There are a couple of other loiterers, a man with a small suitcase carryon and a sandy brown western hat, looking as though he's just passing through on his travels as he browses the selection of candy bars on display, as well as a family she can see towards the other end of the store.

From what she can tell, it's a young couple, a man and a woman, with a little girl running excitedly around her parent's feet as she waves a comic book at them. Beckett can't help her smile when the father lifts his daughter up, hoisting her over his head and onto his shoulders while the mother smiles warmly at them, cooing at her little girl.

She sighs, watching the family with a strange sense, memories of times with her own parents swarming her. But the feeling stirring in her stomach isn't quite nostalgia, but perhaps…longing?

Castle nudges her forward, the heat of him warm against her aching back, and she leans against him, wanting to feel him suddenly.

"What is it?" he asks, voice quite, but containing barely reigned in panic as his eyes fly over her. "Are you going to faint again?"

She smiles at him, shaking her head, and leaves him there, confused, as she moves forward, making her way towards the candy bars now that the travelling guy has moved on to the next aisle.

Scanning the row, her stomach growls at the sight of so many chocolate bars in front of her. It's something that she hasn't really been able to handle eating recently, but right now, she can think of nothing better.

Castle comes up behind her, looking over her shoulder as she chews on her lip, trying to choose from the vast selection in front of her. Hershey's, M&Ms, Reese's…

Oh, _Reese's._

She grabs a pack of peanut butter cups, holding the packet towards her chest protectively as Castle smiles at her, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" she asks defensively, still cradling the peanut butter chocolate towards her. She's been craving these for _weeks._

Castle shakes his head at her in amusement, smile growing as he leans past her to pick up a candy bar for himself. "Nothing."

"They told me I should try to eat lots of protein," she explains, following him around to the next aisle, full of other snacks and tinned goods. "And, peanut butter is protein."

"Uh, Beckett?" he smothers a laugh, stopping in his tracks as she carries on past him. "I don't think that counts as real-"

She spins around, fixing him with a glare as she quirks an eyebrow up in challenge, and he chuckles, holding his hands up in surrender as he walks up next to her.

They pick up a few more snacks to keep them going, and Castle finds her a pair of black ballet flats that she slips into eagerly. There are a few brands of painkillers they get hold of too, though she doubts that they're anywhere near as powerful as the one's she's been prescribed, but hopefully they'll at least take the edge off a little. She's been wanting to wean herself off them anyway.

They also make sure to grab a hat each, some hooded jackets that will help disguise their appearance in case the gunmen are still loitering around looking for them.

Castle pays for the goods, keeping his head down to hide the worst of his bruises, while she hangs back, idling between the aisles as she lazily scans the shelves, not wanting to draw attention to her state of injury.

"Kate," she hears him call from the other end of the store. "Honey, let's get going. We're supposed to be arriving at your father's before lunch."

She rolls her eyes as she makes her way over to him, raising an eyebrow at the shit-eating grin he's beaming towards her as he holds the door open.

Oh, two can play at this game.

Well aware of the store clerk watching them curiously, she leans close against him, revealing in the shocked expression he can't seem to help, reaching up to press a soft kiss to his cheek, mindful of the bruises, before she pulls away.

"I know," she winks at him, and he gulps, his eyes wide as she places her hand against his chest. "I'm right behind you, Babe."

* * *

The moment they've sat back down at the benches, shaded from the sunlight, Castle takes out his phone and dials Esposito. It only takes a few rings before the detective answers the call from the city.

"Esposito."

Castle can't help breathing a sigh of relief at the familiar voice of a friend after everything. Beckett is happily tearing open the packet of Reece's peanut butter cups, sat on the bench opposite him, bathed in the little patch of sunlight streaking through the leaves of the large tree they're sheltered under.

"Hey, Espo," he greets, leaning his elbow down onto the wooden table top. "It's Castle."

"What's up, Bro?" Esposito carries on enthusiastically, oblivious to everything that's happened on their end. "I was gonna call you, let you know what's going down with the investigation right now."

He blanks, stomach dropping out from underneath him. Shit, he'd completely forgotten about that.

After being wrapped up and completely consumed by thoughts revolving Beckett, he's completely forgotten about all the work they've been doing back in the city to try and catch the bastard that killed her mother and ordered the hit on her.

He lifts his gaze up to watch his partner, blissfully ignorant of the ongoing case developments back home, sitting across from him as she savours the melting peanut butter cups, licking the chocolate off her fingers as she hums. Bringing this back up will just weigh her down further, make it even harder for her to remain above the surface of the case that's been drowning her for so long.

But they have a name now.

Espo carries on explaining from the other end of the line. "We found out that Montgomery sent a confidential file to an unknown source the day he was killed, but we managed to intercept it before it arrived at its required destination. We haven't been given the all clear to check out what's inside yet, but in the meantime we're tracking down the guy it was being sent to."

Castle's brows furrow at the information. He'd had something delivered by Montgomery sent to his private P.O box the day before he'd received that heart-breaking call from Beckett. He hadn't had time to read any of it, but stopped by the bank to have it placed in a safety deposit box, just in case, while he'd be gone from the city.

He shakes his head. There are more important things to worry about right now.

"Uh, yeah," he hedges, trying to think of how to explain the past twenty four hours to the detectives. "Well, about the case…"

"Castle?" he hears Ryan joining in on the other side of the line, voice tinny, but still clear enough that he must be close by. He's probably on loud-speaker. "What's going on?"

Sighing, he moves the phone away from his ear, putting the speaker phone on and motioning for Beckett to talk.

She glares at him, pointing to her full mouth in irritation, before she manages to swallow and lean closer on the table. "Hey, guys."

"Beckett?" they both exclaim in unison, a combination of excited and confused at the sound of their boss's voice.

Beckett lowers her head, bashfully hiding behind the long tendrils of her hair, despite the fact the boys can't actually see her. "Yeah, it's me."

"What are you doing back in the city?" Ryan asks, voice sounding much closer now. "We thought you were at your dad's cabin."

"I was."

"Then why are you with, Castle?" Esposito chimes in, sounding affronted, probably for being left out of the loop.

"Jim Beckett had to go back into the city, so I've come out here while he's gone."

There's a thoughtful pause on the other end of the line, the boys obviously digesting this new information, but Castle can't hold back any longer.

"Anyway," he starts, catching Beckett's eye meaningfully. "We need a bit of help."

The dramatic change of tension he can feel from Ryan and Esposito is palpable as he and Beckett recount the events of last night, and they practically have to force the both of them to stay in New York and not pick them up immediately.

"We need you guys to make sure everyone at home's safe first," Beckett explains, and he worries slightly when he hears the breathless quality start seeping back into her voice again. "Get a protective detail on anyone remotely connected to this case or someone involved in it: Evelyn and the kids, my dad," she pauses, glancing up at him. "Martha and Alexis in the Hamptons."

His breath leaves him in a sudden _whoosh._

Alexis and his mother. God, he hadn't even thought about how this could put them in danger as well. He needs to call his daughter. As soon as they're somewhere safer, he's going to call them.

Ryan's voice interrupts his thoughts. "What about you though?" he asks, sounding as though he's trying, and failing, to hide his worry. "You two aren't safe out there. You need to come back to the city."

"I know, but we'll make sure to lay low and you can come and get us as soon as you sort everyone else out. We don't know who else is involved in this, so I need you two to make sure they're safe first," Beckett explains, and he can read the anxious tension running through her posture, the way she's favouring one side as the pain starts to build around her scar incisions again. "Besides, we found something else out. Something you need to start looking into right away."

"We overheard them whilst we were hiding," Castle cuts in, staring over at his partner, holding the phone between them as he offers up the information they've found that may actually end this once and for all. "We have a name."

* * *

She sinks against the cloud of pillows, releasing a heavy sigh of contentment as the tension in her muscles finally ease, flowing out of her as she rests her body for the first time in almost twenty four hours.

The paisley bedspread is soft to the touch, bathed in the evening sunlight shining through the small window with sheer curtains on her right, the earthy tones decorating their rented room making her feel at ease, comfortable and almost familiar in a place she's never seen before. Or maybe it's just that she's so tired.

The boys had contacted the local police department, alerting them to the situation, and sent a patrol car to pick them up not far from the gas station once they'd finished their snacks and drinks.

They'd driven into a village close by, mindful of anyone suspicious who could possibly be looking for them, locating a small bed and breakfast that Ryan had found and said would make a good temporary safe house for them, quiet enough not to draw attention, yet still close enough to the centre that it doesn't appear as though they're hiding from someone.

Thankfully, Castle had managed to keep his wallet on him, even after everything, so with a security detail outside, they'll probably be safe enough to pay for a room here until the boys can come and get them.

The little old lady in charge had given them both a squinty eyed, curious look when they'd walked in, dressed in filthy clothes, with her in a large, oversized hooded jacket, and for a moment Beckett had worried that she wouldn't let them stay. However, she was relieved when the petite old woman simply gave them both a once over, before smiling and calling over her granddaughter to escort, 'the adorable couple', to a room on the first floor.

Neither of them had dared to argue with the assumption that they were a married couple, and to be perfectly honest, Beckett didn't want to be far away from Castle anyway, so both obediently followed the young girl up to the room where she handed them the keys.

She closes her eyes against the beaming streak of sunlight dancing across her lids, listening to the muffled rumble of Castle on the phone to Alexis in the bathroom. She knows he's worried about them, and she creases her brow against the guilt she feels at putting him in danger, risking taking him away from his family and putting Alexis Castle in the very same positon that had forced her into this mess in the first place.

The inkling that Castle is drowning in his own guilt about something tugs at her as well, grounding her in consciousness even while her body and mind crave the sweet release of sleep. So, when he finally creaks the door from the bathroom open, gazed fixed down on the phone he's just hung up, she forces herself to prop up on her elbows, ignoring the strain at the movement as she waits for him to come to her.

There isn't a second bed, what with them both being a 'married couple' and all, but Castle already agreed to sleep on the couch, a tiny little thing shuffled in the corner that they both know he'll have no way of curling up on. He comes to sit next to her hip though, and she feels the mattress shift under his weight, holding the phone on his lap as he stares down at his hands.

"Alexis okay?" she asks softly, prompting the start of a conversation when he doesn't seem eager to begin one himself.

He nods, still not looking towards her, gaze fixated on his hands cradling the phone. "Yeah," he starts, voice rough. "She and Mother are, uh, fine."

She narrows her eyes at him curiously, tilting her head as her hair falls off her shoulder. He looks up at her, sighing as he meets her gaze, and she finally sees the darkness taking up residence inside him, the internal exhaustion that's started to make itself known.

"I…" he stutters, trailing off as he clamps his mouth shut, looking as though he's trying to think through his words. "I told them about all this, and Alexis isn't too happy."

Her head bobs, and she has to break their stare, turning her head away to look out the window, studying the leaves of the tree just outside, swaying in the subtle breeze. Alexis has good reason to worry. Castle shouldn't be endangering himself when he has his daughter to worry about, especially when this is all her own doing in the first place.

"I'm sorry."

Her head snaps back up, her eyes fixing directly on his as her brain tries to catch up and process the words he's just uttered into the silence of the room. "Sorry about what?"

He shrugs, shoulders slumping heavily and he leans backwards, palms flat on the bed beside her outstretched legs as he faces away and leans his weight against them. "Everything," he utters, voice strained, and she wants to reach out towards him, caress the soft skin of his hand, so close to hers. "For pushing you to look into this case, for not being fast enough to save you, for leading them here to kill you-"

" _Castle,"_ she gasps, heart stuttering inside her chest as she hears how defeated he feels. "This isn't your fault, _none_ of this is your fault."

He lets out a frustrated growl, and she startles as he turns around to face her. "I promised to keep you safe, I _promised_ I wouldn't let them hurt you."

"What?" she exclaims, shifting onto one side to get closer to him, reaching out for his hand. He shies away, and she tries to ignore the sting of hurt. "Castle, what are you talking about?"

"Your dad and Captain Montgomery," he sighs, closing his eyes as he runs a hand down his face tiredly. "They were relying on me to keep you safe, to stop you from going too far and getting yourself killed, and yet Montgomery is dead and you almost ended up the same way."

She's stunned. Completely and utterly shocked that he's been festering this much guilt inside, all this time. She wants to yell at him, wishes that she had the energy to shake him until he sees sense again. "Don't you dare blame yourself for that," she tells him firmly. "I was the one who cut myself off, pushed too far even when you were doing your best to stop me."

"But everything that's happened, happened because of _me,"_ he barks out, eyes dark. "If I hadn't pushed you to reopen the case-"

"Shut up," she yells, reaching the end of her tether, sitting up and waving her arm at him. "Just shut _up."_

He stares at her, startled by her outburst, and she inhales shakily, trying to regain her composure.

"I have no idea who has made you believe the crap currently coming out of your mouth," she says, softer now as she tries to calm down. "But, Castle, I don't blame you for anything that's happened, because it is _not your fault._ You were the only one trying to save me from myself, and you're the one who's here right now, trying to keep me safe again."

He's silent, watching the hands he's wringing on his lap and refusing to meet her eyes.

Shuffling over, trying to ignore the twinging pain that's starting to build in her side again, she releases a sigh, patting the other side of the bed next to her. Castle tilts his head at her, confused, and she rolls her eyes. "Come on," she says, giving the comforter an exaggerated smack. "Neither of us have had much sleep, so get some rest and you might feel a little better."

Castle stands up, shaking his head as he motions towards the tattered couch in the corner. "No, it's okay, I'll just-"

"Castle, get in the bed."

"As much of a turn on it is to hear you say those words," he closes his eyes. "I would rather not give your boyfriend another reason to shove me against a wall."

Her jaw drops open involuntarily. Boyfriend? But she and Josh aren't-

"We broke up," she tells him, watching the way his entire posture softens at the words as he turns to look at her again.

"You what?"

"Josh and I," she clarifies. Has he really not known, all this time? "We…had words, and he said that I had a choice to make, and I didn't pick him."

She doesn't tell Castle that the ultimatum was to stop working with him, which was never going to be an option. If Josh had known her at all, he should have realised that her partner will _always_ be her number one choice. Which, arguably may have justified his anger towards her, but the unamicable ending to their otherwise enjoyable relationship still leaves her feeling bitter.

Towards Josh, not Castle. Never Castle.

Other than the odd teasing jibe, her partner has been pleasant towards Josh, whereas she's been on the wrong end of several discussion about her and Castle's… _unconventional,_ partnership. And, while she can understand the hostility, she had been shocked at Josh's anger towards him during the conversation that had ended their relationship. Still, Castle said Josh had done _what?_

"You're not together anymore?"

"Wait, Castle," she interrupts his question, staring up at him. "Did you just say that he shoved you?"

Her partner hangs his head, looking towards the ground as he shuffles his feet on the carpet. "He was, uh," he starts, and she sits up straighter. "Angry with me for getting you shot, and justifiably so."

She balks, opening her mouth, but no words come out. Fighting for something to say, she eventually manages to piece together a coherent sentence. "He shoved you." It's more of a statement than a question, but Castle still bows his head in response. "Is that why you blame yourself? Because that was totally out of line and not true at all. I'm so sorry that he did it, and that you feel as though you're to blame, because you absolutely _are not._ "

He sighs, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. "Can we just…" he trails off, shaking his head. "Look, I'm not going to stop feeling guilty about this, and you need rest, so can we just forget about it for now?"

She slumps back down against the cushions, shoulders heavy, and she wants to draw him towards her, reassure him with her touch and tell him how his words that day helped her to hang on to the precarious edge of life rather than sink into death's deep nothingness. But he still doesn't know that she remembers those words, and she can't handle breaking him anymore than she already has.

"Come and lie down, Castle."

Looking up at her, eyes sorrowful, he inches forward, looking down at the space next to her before smoothing his hand over the soft paisley bedsheets. She smiles when he finally sits, leaning down to rest on his back, staring up at the ceiling above him.

Reaching over, she gives his hand a gentle squeeze, before shifting on her other side, her back to him as she takes the weight off her aching scars.

She can still feel the warmth of him, even all the way on the other side of the bed, and the tangible evidence of his presence soothes her, makes her feel safe enough to close her eyes against the afternoon sun and relax into a much needed sleep.

The guilt that's been eating him up for the past few weeks shocks her, and she's been so caught up in seeing him again, relishing in the sight of him, that she's forgotten how this ordeal must be affecting him, the boys, and Lanie, not to mention his mother and daughter up in the Hamptons, worrying about him.

She's missed him. Missed the joy that his light brings to the darkness surrounding her, even in a situation as terrible as this.

She only wishes that she can be whole enough to do the same for him, that her presence could do more than cast shadows over the life of the beautiful man who deserves so much better.

* * *

 _A/N: Once again, I just want to thank you all for the amazing support for this story. Every review, favourite and follow means so much to me, and I appreciate you all taking the time to read this._

 _I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll have the next one posted in a few days!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

* * *

Slowly returning to consciousness, Castle feels the comfort of a warm body surrounding his own, heating him up from the inside out and giving him a sense of calm that he hasn't felt in the past few weeks.

The rise and fall of a chest lulls him, keeping him in that sweet state between sleep and wakefulness, and Castle burrows into the wonderful warmth in front of him, a scent so familiar and comforting that he finds himself sighing, tension seeping out of him gradually as he lies there.

He doesn't need to be fully awake to realise that he's spooning with Kate Beckett, but he won't open his eyes, won't prove the thought to himself and risk the reality of the situation scaring him away from the first bit of peace he's managed to find since she was shot in the chest right in front of him.

So instead, he pulls her closer towards him, burying his nose in the curls of her hair so that it tickles his face, and lets the steady rhythm of her breath reassure him that she's alive, despite everything. She feels so small in his arms, so slight and fragile, all hard bones and sharp edges, and the harsh reminder of how very _not_ okay she is has him squeezing his eyes firmly against the assault of light, cradling the broken body of the strongest person he knows closer towards him so that the beat of his heart is directly against her back.

He hears a soft sigh, a sound so innocent and content that he has to hide his smile in the tendrils of her hair. She would kill him if she were awake right now, but the emotions battling inside him, as well as the unexpected knowledge that she's no longer involved with 'Doctor Motorcycle-Boy', makes him want to indulge in the rare moment of quite between them, even if this is something that crosses a huge line for both of them.

But, she must have rolled closer to him in her sleep as well.

The guilt he feels still gnaws uncomfortably inside him, and the conversation with his daughter, who is unsurprisingly angry with this entire situation, has only served to put him more on edge, so he'll be taking all the comfort he can get right now.

Beckett shifts underneath him suddenly, and the unexpected movement has him opening his eyes. She's shuffling backwards, almost wriggling her body to get closer to him, and it's then that he notices the firm grip she has on the arm he's wrapped around her waist, cuddled against the scar he knows must be there but hasn't seen yet.

He smiles involuntarily, stroking the soft skin of her palm with the hand she's grasping, taking a few more precious moments to indulge in the serenity of this moment, before real life cuts its way through and shatters the temporary haven they've created.

A quick glance out the window shows that it's still light out, but the sluggishness he feels surrounding him makes him think that they may have slept much longer than they'd intended. The lock screen of his phone confirms his suspicions, that it's the next morning and their exhausted bodies must have slept through, and he sighs heavily, eyeing the notifications letting him know that Ryan's been texting him, asking him to call.

With one last glance at the serene face of his sleeping partner, Castle reluctantly untangles himself from her, slowly removing his arm as he tries not to wake her up. Her face looks younger, less haunted with the lines of pain and fatigue finally smoothed from her features.

He tries to shake himself of the feelings of fuzziness that come with prolonged sleep, and he opens the door to the adjoining bathroom, eager to have a shower and clean himself off from the events of the past couple of days.

* * *

"Are you sure he's the guy?"

"With what we know so far and the timeline, we're almost positive. Now we just need to prove it."

He runs a hand down his face tiredly, pacing the small room as he speaks to Ryan on the phone, their conversation thankfully muffled by the running water in the bathroom.

Beckett had demanded a shower once she'd woken up, and although they both know she's not quite capable of doing everything on her own yet, he thinks she deserves the dignity of at least attempting it herself. The fact that he doesn't want her to hear these new developments and drown herself in even deeper waters in only a bonus.

"How are we going to do that?" he asks the detective, closing his eyes against the migraine he can feel throbbing in his head. "William Bracken's a s _enator,_ " he emphasises, the name of Johanna Beckett's murderer sounding foreign on his tongue, almost as though he's uttering a dirty word. "We can't just accuse him of something as big as this without hard evidence."

"I know, I know," Ryan reassures him, voice slightly muffled on the other end of the phone. "We're working on it, I promise. It's you and Beckett that most of us are worried about right now."

"Yeah, me too," he sighs, flopping his body down heavily onto the small couch by the window.

"We have units on your mother and Alexis," Ryan explains, and the confirmation takes a weight off his heavily burdened chest. "And I think Gates wants you and Beckett in a proper safe house."

Gates? Oh, Montgomery's new replacement. The one who isn't too fond of him going anywhere near _'her'_ precinct.

"A safe house?" he asks, playing with the loose string on the armrest of the couch, tattered with odd pieces of string poking up from all angles. "Beckett can just come and stay with my family in the Hamptons; you said it's safe there, right?"

There's a pause on the other end of the phone, but Castle feels adamant. If Beckett's going to be hauled off somewhere to recover again, he's going to make sure it's with him this time.

"That might work," Ryan replies, drawing his voice out, as if he's trying the idea out in his head. "I don't know if Beckett will be too happy about this case going ahead without her help though."

"Seeing as we have a team of killers currently trying to hunt us down, I think she may just have to accept that."

Ryan chuckles quietly, and Castle appreciates the man's attempts to remain light hearted in such a dire situations. "If you guys just lay low for the time being, we can hopefully get someone out there to escort you both back here later today."

"Great," he breathes, rubbing a hand down his face, leaning back against the cushions of the couch. "Thanks, Ryan."

Ryan hums in response, and Castle can hear the clatter of people around him inside the bullpen. They really are going all out to get this sorted. "We've got your backs, Castle. Just take care of Beckett for us, and we'll handle the rest."

They say their goodbyes, and Castle hangs up, dropping his phone to the surface of the coffee table in front of him, taking a moment to collect himself as he tries to relax against the back of the couch. The water from the shower is still running, and although he had to force images of a naked Beckett showering only a room away from his mind at first, he can't help but think that she's been in there for a while now.

What if she's hurt herself? What if the past couple of days have finally caught up with her, and the exhaustion has caused her to pass out, fall against the cold tiles and get a concussion?

He's standing up and walking towards the bathroom door before he even realises what he's doing, lifting a fist to knock against the wood, trying to hold back the irrational panic.

"Beckett?" he calls, hoping that his voice sounds at least somewhat even. "You okay in there?"

There's no response, and he actually contemplates just bashing the door down, when the steady stream of water slows suddenly. Before he can react and call out for her again, the door he's leaning against opens, and he finds himself falling forward.

He grips onto Beckett, realising a moment too late that she's wearing nothing but a towel, and his body's reaction to contact with her bare skin has his nerve endings singing.

Righting himself quickly, he lets go of her, standing up straight as he tries to play it cool and not let on to the fact that the feel of her skin has superbly inappropriate images flashing through his brain. Beckett stands before him, tucking the towel more securely around her body, looking slightly dazed, droplets of water trickling down her neck, over her collarbones, and he follows them with his eyes, mesmerised until they disappear below the knot tied between her-

" _Castle,"_ his gaze flies back upwards, meeting her stern glare, eyes flashing at him. "Do you mind?"

"Uh, sorry," he stutters, shaking his head to try and collect himself. It's then that he realises she seems anxious about something, arms folded tightly over her chest, and feet shuffling as she stares at the floor. "Hey, you alright?"

She blinks, lifting her head to look at him, the wet strands of her hair dripping water onto the tiled floor. "Um, I…" she trails off, narrowing her eyes in frustration before she tries again. "I, uh, I just…"

"Kate," he says, the use of her first name catching her attention. "Is something wrong? You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Her eyes close and she turns away for a second, seemingly trying to collect herself, before she faces him again, the emotional shutters pulled down as she fixes her mouth in determination. "I've been getting better at lifting my arms," she says, still not quite meeting his eyes, gaze fixed on the wall slightly over his shoulder. "But, after everything that's happened…"

"Beckett?" he prompts, wanting desperately to be able to help with whatever is bothering her so much.

She sighs, lowering her voice slightly. "I can't wash my hair properly."

He feels his entire form soften in understanding, knowing that even just admitting something like this is huge for a person as closed off as Beckett. But he can help with this, if she'll let him, of course.

Not wanting to startle her, he takes a small step forward, keeping his voice low, for her ears only when he speaks. "Do you want me to help?"

She balks, startling back away from him as her gaze flies to his, indignation flaring up in her eyes. "What?" she blurts out, gripping the towel with one fist as she waves the other towards him. "No, Castle. That's not what I meant."

"I know," he nods, trying to remain calm and not be offended by her outburst, knowing that the frustration of admitting defeat to a task a simple as this must be getting to her, making her crawl in and protect herself. "But I'm still offering. It's not like I haven't had practice washing Alexis's hair when she was younger, and I promise to be a perfect gentlemen."

She stares at him, biting her lip a she visibly tries to fight the warring battle currently going on inside her head. But, eventually she releases a sigh, dropping her shoulders as she rolls her eyes, turning towards the bathtub in unspoken surrender.

He smiles softly after her, quickly straightening his face before he follows her towards the small tub at the side of the room. It's not a large bathroom by any stretch of the imagination, but it's pleasant enough, and clean at least.

Beckett hesitates slightly, before kneeling in front of the tub, clutching the towel tightly towards her as she leans the elbow of her other arm on the rim. Castle swallows thickly, only now realising that this is going to involve a level of intimacy neither of them have allowed before. He's a little worried that he's pushing her too much, but the negative thoughts are mostly silenced when he realises that Beckett is the one currently urging him to hurry up with a tug to his pant leg.

He's just going to have to try and make this as comfortable as possible for her.

Kneeling directly behind his partner, he makes a valiant effort not to press up against her back, reaching over her to grab the small bottle of shampoo that came as a complimentary part of their room, popping open the top and squeezing a decent amount onto his palm.

Taking a deep breath, he beings to rub it into the already damp strands of her hair. The scent of lemon is pretty overwhelming, but the zingy smell is still pleasant enough as he massages the shampoo into her scalp, and he's mesmerised by the soft feel of her hair beneath his palms.

Beckett is still beneath him, back ramrod straight, and she seems to be holding her breath, as if she's afraid to move. It worries him slightly, but eventually she begins to relax underneath him, spine softening as she loses some of the tension that's been thrumming through her.

She lets out a soft hum that he almost doesn't hear when he picks up the showerhead to rinse off the soapy suds, and he startles slightly at the sound, pushing up closer against her back as his knees slip against the tiles beneath him. It causes the showerhead to flail out of control for a second, and Beckett yelps, lifting her head up and reaching behind her to whack him on the knee.

"Careful, you goof," she splutters, wiping water out of her eyes. "You just splashed me."

"Sorry," he mumbles, but he's suddenly far too focused on the play of her back muscles pressed up against him. Never before has he found shoulder blades so attractive.

He quickly rinses the rest of her hair off, trying to avoid contact as much as possible, and once he's done, he hands her a small towel to squeeze out the waterlogged strands. She shifts beneath him, turning until she's directly in front of him, the position of his knees resulting in his body kind of straddling her now.

Beckett doesn't seem fazed with their proximity though, and just stares up at him with those big, gorgeous eyes of hers, and he just wants to drown in them, lose himself in the beauty of her. She's so close, barely inches from him, and he can feel the gentle puffs of her breath, the heat from her skin burning through his clothes, droplets of water soaking him. It hits him with a sudden clarity that all he needs to do right now is tilt forward, dip his head down towards her and capture her lips with his own, and he honestly can't think of a reason not to right now.

He finds himself leaning into her, sees the flush of colour blushing her cheeks pink, spreading down the sleek column of her neck, towards her chest and between her breasts.

 _Oh, fuck._

He must have cursed out loud, because Beckett startles out of the trance they've found themselves in, clutching the towel that's slipped down slightly in an iron clad grip that turns her knuckles white, but it's too late. He's already seen it.

Her scar.

The red puckered skin that's circling the centre of her chest, glaring at him angrily and reminding him of everything they've gone through, how close he almost came to losing her then, and how they're still being hunted like animals now. He's completely overcome with emotion, and the sight of the one thing that almost tore them apart, that speaks of her survival now, almost brings him to tears.

Reaching out on instinct, he watches Beckett shy away from him, curling up around herself as if she's protecting herself from something. From _him._

"Kate," he says, voice barely a breath into the silence that surrounds them.

She shakes her head vehemently, trying to scoot backwards but meeting only the cold ceramic of the bathtub. Her eyes are red rimmed, and he has a sinking feeling that it's more than the shampoo in her eyes that's causing it.

"You weren't meant to see it," she gasps, dipping her head as she hides from him.

Her breathing's picking up again, making him worry that she's succumbing to another panic attack, and he suddenly hates himself. Why on earth did he think it would be okay to kiss her when she's so vulnerable at the moment? The both of them are barely hanging on by their fingertips right now.

"Kate," he tries again, keeping his voice low as he shuffles a little closer to her, wanting to soothe her without making her feel trapped. "Look at me, please?"

Her eyelashes flicker, and she lifts her head slightly, enough so that he can see the shame written there, the pain flaring behind her eyes. He takes hold of one of her hands, bringing it up to his chest again in the same way he had a couple of days ago, and tries to relax her with the beat of his heart, thumping loudly in his chest as he smooths a thumb over the ridges of her knuckles.

It seems to work, and her breath begins to regulate again, the touch grounding her to what's real and helping fight off her inner demons that seem to swallow her up whenever they please. She glances up at him, the intensity of her stare making him feel as though she's looking into him, reading his innermost thoughts in a way only she seems able to.

Suddenly, he feels her reach down with her other hand for his own, her slim fingers encasing him as she lifts it up, never breaking eye contact with him. He gasps quietly when he feels terrycloth beneath his hand, quickly replaced by the smooth silk of her skin.

He's terrified, certain she can feel the furious beating of his heart, but doesn't dare to move his eyes from hers even when he realises what she's doing. He feels the ridge on her skin, the rough bumpiness of the still healing bullet wound that broke her heart and his along with it weeks ago.

Tears spring to his eyes when he feels the steady rhythm of her heart, the strong beat pulsing against his palm where it's pressed between her breasts, just above the towel still covering her, and he doesn't even try to fight it.

She sends him a watery smile, tears welling in her own eyes as he feels the tickle of a tear tracing its way down his cheek, but neither move to wipe them away, not wanting to break the connection they've created between them. The lifeline of their two hearts, still beating strong even after everything they've gone through.

Kate chews on her lip, sniffing slightly as she leans towards him. He meets her willingly, letting her drop her forehead to his shoulder as he presses his cheek to her hair, the strands curling slightly as they start to dry. "I'm alive," she whispers into his shoulder, tilting her head to rest her cheek against him.

He chokes out a laugh, clutching her hand to him as her fingers curl at his chest. "Yeah, Kate," he tells her, not quite sure if he's trying to convince her or himself. "You're alive."

They sit there for endless minutes, tangled limbs on the bathroom floor with nothing but the feel of their heartbeats, slowly healing the scars beneath the skin that have finally stopped aching for the first time since he can remember.

* * *

 _I know that I'm beginning to sound like a broken record right now, but I seriously can't thank you all enough for reading this and for your continued support. It really helps to make my day a little bit brighter, and I hope you all enjoy this latest chapter._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

* * *

She has to bribe him, promise to spend the afternoon resting until Ryan and Espo come to pick them up sometime tonight, for him to agree to go out and look around the village to pass the time.

Being inside that tiny little room all day has been making her antsy, and she's eager to move her healing limbs and get a breath of fresh air in the summer sun outside. Castle's still worried about her, she can tell by the way he's been watching her every movement with a hawk-like gaze, and it's things like this that make her regret showing him how vulnerable she feels at the moment. She doesn't want him to see her as the woman who flinches at loud noises, who has a breakdown on the phone with him and at any memory of the day she was shot.

It's the main reason she never wanted him to see any of this in the first place; she wants him to see her as the Beckett he knows and…loves.

She stutters in a breath, ducking her chin to hide behind her hair, the unruly curls dry now in the warmth of the summer air. He still doesn't know that she remembers every single moment from that day, especially his confession, and she can't help worrying about his reaction if he ever finds out.

"Do you know this place very well?" Castle asks, snapping her away from her thoughts as he scans the village square before him, and she can tell he's observing the locals and tourists around them, picking up fodder for his novels.

His novels. Nikki Heat. She's going to have to ask him about that.

She shrugs, scuffing her shoe against the cobblestone path beneath them. It's pretty uneven, and she's nearly tripped over it twice already. "Not really, I haven't been here since I was pretty young."

He nods at her, scrunching the empty paper bag in his fist, dropping it into a trashcan they pass before he wipes his hands on his jeans. They'd stopped at a bakery for a snack, not being able to resist the delicious smell of cinnamon and fresh bread, and she couldn't help but smile when he handed her a bear claw. Just like old times.

 _Speaking of which…_

"Castle," she says, swallowing a mouthful of the pastry while she waits for him to turn to her, take his eyes off the group of kids throwing coins in the fountain towards the middle of the square. "What's happening with Nikki Heat?"

He sighs, shoving his hands inside his pockets, keeping stride next to her. "I managed to finish _Heat Rises_ ," he explains, and she feels the surge of excitement at the words. She'd wanted to read it, desperately wanted to read it, but she didn't know how to reach out to him and ask for a copy without completely disregarding her need for space. "I actually brought an early copy for you, but it's still at your dad's cabin."

She feels her shoulders droop at the words. Her father's cabin; all shot up and completely dangerous for them right now. Another safe haven that's been tainted by the stain of her mother's case.

"Do you think we'll be able to go back?" she hears him ask, and she looks up at him, sees the regret shining back at her. He still feels responsible for all of this, doesn't he?

"Eventually," she reassures him, trying to pull a smile up on her lips. "But obviously it won't be safe until CSU goes through it and we know for sure those guys aren't going to come back."

He nods thoughtfully, and she can see the guilt he's trying to hold back, slowly draining him.

Enough of that.

"Hey," she nudges his arm, pulling him to a stop. "Stop blaming yourself, Castle. None of this is your fault and you really need to start believing that."

"Kate, they followed me out here," he sighs, running a hand down his face tiredly, the exhaustion of the past couple of days, or maybe even _months,_ starting to weigh him down. "If it weren't for me, they never would have come for you."

She shakes her head, moving towards him and gripping his arm, their height difference causing her head to tilt up so she can look directly at him. "If it weren't for you, I would be dead."

His eyes widen from the shock of her words, the direct bluntness of her mentioning her own mortality clearly getting to him. But he needs to understand this. "You're the one who carried me out of that hangar to save me, Castle. You're the one who tried to jump in front of a bullet for me, and you're the one who managed to get us away from those gunmen. You've saved me a dozen times before that, in more ways than you can imagine, so don't you _dare_ blame yourself for this when you're the reason I'm standing here right now."

* * *

They're both pretty silent as they continue walking through the village, letting the warmth of the sun beam down on them, and Beckett fights to ignore the twitching ache, ever present on her side. Any loud noises still startle her, but she's managing to keep her reaction to just little flinches, trying not to alert Castle and worry him more.

The vast variety of stores here are astounding, and she can't believe she's never spent more time here over the past summers. Little homemade jewellery stores, an entire shop dedicated to selling local fruit and honey, but it's the antique store just ahead of them that catches her eye.

"Oh, Castle," she hums, touching his arm lightly. He's looking calmer, a little lighter now that she's set him straight about his guilt. "Look at this."

He tilts his head, following her gaze towards the glass window, and they both squint against the reflection of the sun, trying to look into the store. Even from here they can see that it's full of little trinkets, decorative ornaments from all over the world. How has she never been here?

"Can we go in?" she asks, already moving towards the door. She's feeling pretty rough, but she can hang on for a little while longer.

"Beckett, you should be resting," he sighs, but still follows her anyway. "We weren't supposed to be out this long."

She ignores him and leans against the door, opening it as she tries not to wince at the pull in her muscles. It'll be okay for now, then she'll indulge Castle's paranoia and go back to the room.

A musty old smell fills her nose as she steps inside, the play of light shining through the large windows making the store feel warm, sunshine reflecting off the antiques in a gold aura. She breathes it in, relishing the comforting feel of the place, and she looks around, scanning the shelves of vases and bowls, little animal figurines with tribal patterns decorating them.

The ring of the bell attached to the door signals her to Castle following her inside, and she turns to face him, grinning.

"See," she waves her arm at the room as she watches him glance around the shop himself. "This place is great. We don't have to stay long; let's just look around a little."

"Okay, fine," he relents, giving her a half smile. "This _is_ pretty awesome."

"I love finding stores like this," she nods, motioning him to follow her as she starts down one of the aisles, the dark wood of the shelves filled with miniature ornaments that look like they're mostly made out of ceramic, all different shapes, sizes and colours. "So much history and culture all in one place."

He follows her as she examines each shelf, taking in every item from the little dolphin figurines to the large two-toned vase that's covered with hand-painted cherry blossoms, the flowers twirling up and around as they reach the neck. The owner greets them as they pass the counter, before disappearing towards a storage room in the back, welcoming them to look around the room next door as well.

Castle finds himself enamoured with a wooden elephant, small enough to fit in his palm. It's next to some others that look as though they might have actually been made from fruit, and she tells him how her nonna once brought her back a pair of maracas created from fruit after a vacation in Jamaica. She likes this one too though, and runs her fingernail through the line of carvings on its side, the swirled patterns etched delicately in the wood.

He doesn't put it back, just cradles it in his hand as they continue looking around, and they eventually make their way to the back of the store.

"Did the owner say we can go in there?" Castle points towards the open door leading to the connecting room at the back, the large glass of the windows causing the midday sun to shine brightly over the more sparsely decorated area.

"I don't see why not," she shrugs, eyeing the room eagerly. "Might as well have a quick look."

They slip inside, eyeing the larger antiques spread out over the space, the huge bay windows throwing natural light over the room. Castle moves ahead of her, already distracted by the rows of antique guns inside the glass cases in the centre, the polished brown wood of the floor glaring brightly in the sun.

"Beckett, check this out," he calls over to her, leaning over the glass to get a better look. "These are so cool. They're like the guns from that case we worked last year."

She comes up behind him slowly as she eyes the large windows spanning the entire left side of the room, looking out onto the trees and shrubs in the surrounding garden. It looks gorgeous, but she can't help feeling ridiculously exposed here, and she finds herself surreptitiously circling the scar under her shirt with her index finger, clutching her palm to her chest.

Attempting to distract herself, she leans over his shoulder, eyeing the gun collection before them, laid down carefully on the red cushioning inside the cases. They all look more like works of art than weapons, obviously detailed and crafted by hard-working hands, but she sees a small note attached to the case. Squinting her eyes slightly, she leans closer towards it to read the letters explaining that the barrels have been modified for everyday use.

The glint of the sun shining off one of the larger vases beside her catches her eye, and she swings towards it, the material of her oversized t-shirt flaring out around her. Castle's babbling on about something to do with lead balls from beside her, still looking inside the cases, but she can't hear him, his voice sounding distant and tinny inside her head all of a sudden.

Another flash in the corner of her eye, and she gasps, spinning to face it, her heart rate elevating inside her chest, the sound of blood starting to rush through her ears. She's trembling, she realises suddenly, and she can feel Castle's hand on her shoulder, firm and grounding, sounding as though he's speaking through a pillow at her.

Her eyes can't seem to focus, and all she can take in right now is the glints of light reminding her of a sniper's scope, the furious ponding of her heart beneath her aching sternum.

"Beckett?" she hears, but his voiced is muffled, sounding distant and she stares up at the looming windows before her. "Kate, what's wrong?"

She sees it then. The lone figure appearing out from behind the green shrubs lining the outside of the window, the slight raise of a long object in his hands.

Reacting by instinct, she throws herself behind the case of guns, dragging Castle down with her, just seconds before a spray of bullets shatter through the windows with a fantastic _smash._

* * *

"Holy fuck," Castle huffs out from next to her, the both of them crouched down behind their makeshift shields of cases. "Talk about ' _A Hail of Bullets'."_

"Castle," she groans, trying to ignore the phantom sting in her chest. "I don't care how bad the situation is, you have no excuse for making a pun that terrible."

The sound of rapid fire assaults their ears again, and they both huddle behind the case, shielding themselves from the shards of glass falling above them. Beckett doesn't think there's more than one shooter, but she's certainly not going to be getting close enough to find out.

Once the shooting ceases for a moment, the guy realising that they've hidden, Castle shifts himself so that he can get his feet underneath him, crouching down low before he takes a quick look over the shattered glass above them.

"We just _cannot_ catch a break, can we?" He says once he's ducked down again, more shooting sounding now, likely in response to the sight of his head.

"See anything?" she gasps, trying desperately to control her breathing, not flinch like she's being hit every time she hears a shot go off. She has her back to the case, staring at the wall behind them, now marred with bullet holes. That had nearly been them.

He shakes his head, shuffling himself closer towards her. She feels the warmth of his arm around her, shaking her slightly, and she realises that she's gone into a kind of daze.

"Stay with me, Beckett," he says, squeezing her shoulder as he stares at her meaningfully, pleading with her. "Don't disappear; I need my partner."

She stares up at him, body still shaking slightly, but she grits her teeth and nods at him, determination flooding through her veins as it mixes with the rush of adrenaline. Mimicking his positon, she turns around and crouches before the case, the protective glass shattered into jagged pieces now.

Eyeing the antique guns still lying inside, the lead bullets nestled in the cushions beside them, she's suddenly struck with a thought.

"Castle," she says, grabbing hold of his sleeve as she tugs him back down, out of the range of their shooter. "I have an idea."

He turns towards her eagerly, his complete and utter trust in her open to see in his expression.

She lifts a hand up slightly, motioning to the inside of the case. "We need to load one of these guns," she explains in between the heavy breaths aching from her lungs. "It should distract him long enough for us to get away from the windows. Besides, if he sees us firing back, that we're armed in some way, he might just give up. He's already missed us, and the owner is only in the other room, so he'll have heard all this and called the cops by now anyway."

His eyes light up, and he cups the side of her face suddenly. For a terrifying moment, she thinks he's going to kiss her, but he only pulls her forward, smacks his lips to the top of her head, before reaching up to slide one of the antique guns down.

She's not sure whether she's relieved or disappointed.

Castle fumbles, trying to load the lead balls into the modified barrel of the gun, and she mentally shakes herself, leaning over to take it from him. She tries to still her own trembling hands, and eventually manages to load the bullets. Not trusting herself to fire a weapon right now, she hands it back to him.

He stares down at the firearm, confused. Glancing up at her in question, she gives him a wave of her hands. "Don't worry about aiming," she tells him, voiced hushed. "Just give 'em a warning."

Tightening his jaw, he nods at her, shifting on his knees as he braces himself over the edge of the case. She has a few seconds to steady herself, prepare for the jarring sound before he fires, but it still shocks her, the noise echoing loudly inside her head long after he's shot.

His hand grips onto her shoulder tightly as he throws the gun to the side, pushing her forwards and urging her to get moving. Shaking away the rising levels of anxiety clouding her mind and fuelled by adrenaline, she ignores the screaming ache in her side as she gets up and crouches, taking the opportunity to run for cover.

Whistles of bullets zip through the air around them as they weave through the display cases, and she keeps a hand clasped tightly around Castle's as she drags him along behind her. She gasps when she feels the burst of air from one of the bullets brush the back of her head, only a hairsbreadth away from driving right through her.

Making it behind another display case, this one larger and angled away from the towering windows to providing slightly more cover, they throw themselves down.

They sit there, still and silent, as they wait for the inevitable retaliation when the shooter realises he's running out of time. With their backs to the wood of the case, they stare at one another, breathing heavily with panic and she can still feel the adrenaline pumping harshly through her veins. Her senses are heightened, aware of every crush of glass, the play of shadows on the wall in front of them, and she can't quite seem to still her shaking hands.

Castle nudges himself closer to her, sliding over so that their shoulders press against one another, and she's glad to have the stability of his solid form next to her, the heat of him a comforting presence by her side.

More shots ring out when the guy's reloaded his clip, and it sounds closer this time. Crouching forward as an automatic reaction, she shields herself from the bullets smashing antiques to pieces around them, a rain of glass and ceramic showering over them, and she winces at the scratches as the fall on her.

A sold weight is pressed against her back, and it only takes a glance at the strong arms surrounding her to let her know Castle's using himself to shield her. She's about to push him off, yell at him for protecting her over himself again, when the blare of sirens reach her eardrums.

"It's about time," she hears him sigh once the shooting has finally ceased, replaced by the screech of tyres just outside the windows as the gunmen makes his escape, and he carefully moves off her. "Are you alright?"

She nods warily, pieces of debris and dust falling from her shoulders, and she can't help but wince as she sits up. The pull of her muscles are tight, strained again, letting her know that she's going to need a heavy dose of pain meds and a long sleep once they finally get back to safety.

Turning to look at him, she brushes off the larger pieces still littering her shoulders and back, when she notices the streak of red marring the side of his face, just over the bruise that's still trying to heal.

"Castle," she gasps, reaching out, before she catches herself at the last second. "Your face."

He narrows his eyes, reaching a tentative hand up to inspect the graze, face twisting when he finds the place where a shard of glass must have caught him. Looking back up, he stares at her, face blank.

"Do I still look pretty?"

She barks out a startled laugh, leaning closer to slap him lightly on the arm. Her breath is still being dragged out of her, shallow gasps that can't quite reach her lungs, and her side and chest are aching with pulsing throbs, yet he still manages to make her laugh. Even when hired gunmen are on the hunt to take her out, he's making sure she's smiling.

"You look just as ruggedly handsome as ever, Castle."

He grins at her, eyes crinkling at the corners as they shine a bright blue towards her. Butterflies erupt in her stomach at the sight of the jovial writer she's been missing, peeking out from behind the shadow he's cloaked himself with, a strange sensation overcoming her suddenly.

She wants to kiss him.

Blinking, she's startled by the though, but she can't deny it. She wants to lean forward, cup his face in her palms, wipe the blood and dust away with her thumbs as she stares into the blue eyes that haunt her dreams, lean forward and claim his lips with her own.

She sways towards him, and they're so close that she can feel his breath dusting her face. Opening her mouth, she's about to say something, she has no idea what, when a sudden clatter of noise signals the arrival of police officers around them, checking the area and making sure they're both okay.

She inhales a long breath as one of the officers takes her to the side to give her a once over, and she realises with a sudden clarity the implications of what she was about to do, the fog of the moment having cleared. He doesn't even know that she remembers what he said, and she almost kissed him.

Castle chooses that moment to come over to her, giving her a lopsided smile that has her insides twisting. He holds his hand out to her, and she tilts her head in confusion.

"I'm going to donate some money to the owner to help replace all this," he shrugs, before opening his fist to show her the little wooden elephant he'd found for her earlier. "And, I managed to hang onto this little guy for you."

She closes her eyes, chuckling softly as she hangs her head, tears springing to her eyes. "Thank you," she hums, glancing back up at him from under her eyelashes.

"Now, can we finally head back now?"

She takes a breath, nodding at him as she takes the elephant in her own hand, stroking the delicate curve of its trunk with her finger. "Let's go, Castle."

* * *

 _A/N: The response to the last chapter was so overwhelming, and I'm so glad that people are enjoying this little story of mine._

 _Once again, thank you all so much for your support, and I want to express my gratitude to anonymous reviewers, because unfortunately I can't thank you individually for your lovely comments._

 _Also, apologies for any mistakes I might have missed while editing this. Hope you like it!_


	8. Chapter 8

**C** **hapter 8:**

* * *

Once they'd finished giving statements to the local cops, Castle asked one of the officers to drive them both back to the bed and breakfast, thinking it'd be best for Beckett if she didn't have to walk around any more today. He knows they shouldn't have been out while they were still unsure if they're safe or not, exposed to the bodies wanting to target her and take her out for _Senator Bracken,_ but Beckett had been getting restless and agitated. If he had his way, then he'd wrap her up in bubble wrap and fly her off to a private island somewhere with around the clock protection.

But, obviously she'd never go for that.

Right now, she's flat out on the bed, the exhaustion of the past couple of hours knocking her into unconsciousness the second she'd collapsed onto the soft blankets. He's sitting in the chair at the other end of the room, texting Esposito for the latest updates of their progress back in the city, but he hasn't had a reply yet.

Sighing, he flops his head back against the cushion of the couch, reaching a hand up to cover his eyes. He'd made sure to draw the curtains over the small window, taking every precaution to ensure no one will be able to get her from here. The cop's sudden arrival had chased away the gunman, and they'd been assigned a detail to wait outside for the next few hours, but he couldn't help the edgy nervousness he feels at the thought that someone is so determined to kill her.

 _You know who it is._ His consciousness whispers at him, the ever present chatter of his mind louder in the silence of the room.

He hasn't told Beckett about him yet, that they know Senator William Bracken is behind the order of her mother's murder. Granted, he'd only found out himself earlier today, but he doesn't think she's in the right mind set to handle it just yet. She's clearly unwell, brain poisoned with the darkness that's been building up since that fateful January 9th all those years ago, and he's not sure that he trusts her to react well in this state.

So he'll wait. Wait until he's had the opportunity to check out Montgomery's package when he gets home, when he and the boys are certain of what their next step is going to be.

Beckett shifts over onto her side where she's huddled beneath the covers, one hand tucked up under her cheek as she buries herself further into the cocoon she's created for herself. He smiles at the sight of her looking so adorable while she's sleeping, and he suddenly has the urge to phone his daughter.

Alexis is royally pissed off with him though, livid that he's risking his life for Beckett again, and he can't blame her for it. She's the one who's had to cope with him moping around all summer, not to mention yelling himself awake from nightmares several times a week.

She's the one who watched her father jump in front of a bullet.

He shakes his head, running a hand through the mess of his hair tiredly. No matter what he does, he's always going to be letting somebody he loves and cares about down.

A vibration from his hand startles him, and he jumps up from his seat, pressing the 'accept call' button and lifting the phone to his ear eagerly.

"Any news?"

"Hello to you too, man," he hears Esposito grumble from the other end of the call.

"Good Afternoon, Javier, I trust you're having a pleasant evening," he rolls his eyes. "Now tell me what's going on."

Espo huffs. "How about _you_ tell us about the shootout you were both just caught in?"

Oh, crap. He'd forgotten to let them know, hadn't he?

"Uh, yeah," he stumbles, trying to keep his voice down. "About that-"

"Save it, bro," Esposito interrupts. "The officers on the scene already called and told us everything."

Castle winces, turning his back from his sleeping partner as he paces the room, careful to avoid the window. The silence gives him the chance to hear the strange _whooshing_ noise coming from the detective's side of the call.

"I just-" he starts, when he hears the muffled sound of a horn blaring. "Are you in a car?"

"Yeah, Ryan and I are on our way to pick your sorry asses up, because apparently you can't take care of yourselves."

Castle huffs, knowing that the gallows humour is their way of coping. "Kind of hard to do when there's a contract out on your life, you know?"

"Any excuse," Espo laughs, but Castle can hear the strained quality to it, the worry behind the façade. "But I'm also calling because we have some new leads."

His heart rate picks up, and he spins to face Beckett, still dreaming away peacefully where she's curled up underneath the comforter. "What is it?"

"The guy who Montgomery sent the package to," he explains. "A former associate of his, Michael Smith. We found him bound to a chair with his fingers broken, bloody as heck."

Castle feels his stomach drop out of him. "He's been tortured."

"He's alive though," Espo reassures him, and he hears Ryan say something distantly, voice muffled. "We've got him under observation in the hospital, and we have unis waiting to talk to him as soon as he's regained consciousness."

Beckett lets out a cute little mumble from the other side of the room, clutching the blankets tightly in her fist as she sighs in her sleep. He lowers his voice to avoid waking her. "What does this mean for Senator Bracken?"

"We know it was him, the file basically says so, but we just don't have proof."

"He killed Beckett's mother, Captain Montgomery, and God knows how many others, there has to be _something."_

"I don't know what to tell you, bro," he sighs, resignation clear in his voice. "We couldn't find anything that can definitely prove he's responsible. There's a missing number to a bank account he's funnelled money from, but it must be in another file. It's like half the stuff is missing. Maybe Beckett knows something?"

"No," he says firmly, shaking his head even though neither of the detectives can see him. "She's not in the right frame of mind to know all this yet. If she hears that we have a name right now, she's going to do something stupid."

"Your call, Castle. But we'll be there in a couple of hours to pick you up, so you'd better think of a cover story about this, and the package too."

 _Package._ Montgomery had sent him a package. Would there be anything else that could help in that one? Maybe the missing information with the account number. Why the heck hadn't he thought to check it before?

Esposito carries on from the other end of the line.

"The good news is, if this is what they were after, then with Smith's testimony, you guys should be safe for now."

 _Well, at least there's that,_ he thinks, the weight lifting off his shoulders a little. But there's still a voice nagging at him. He needs to tell the boys about that file.

"Hey, Espo," he starts, turning to pace the room again. "I forgot to tell you earlier that…"

He trails off at the sight of his partner, sat upright in the bed and very clearly _awake._ She's staring directly at him, betrayal etched deeply onto her features.

Shit.

* * *

He hangs up the phone without another word, not breaking eye contact with her. Rumpled with sleep, hair mussed, and clothing wrinkled, she still looks so intimidating that he has to back up a step.

Swallowing down the nerves churning inside him, he takes in a long breath, slowly moving towards her.

"How much did you hear?" he asks, biting the bullet and getting straight to the point to assess the damage.

She doesn't miss a beat. "Enough."

"Beckett, I-"

"Who the _hell_ do you think you are?" she growls at him, kneeling up on the bed. "Talking about me like that to _my_ team, hiding information about my _mother's_ case _."_

He holds his hands up, trying to calm her down. How did this get out of hand so fast?

"Just listen to me for a moment, okay?" he asks, not taking his eyes off her as his knees bump the edge of the mattress. "I didn't want to add any more to your plate, Beckett. You have enough going on right now."

She gapes at him, eyes burning into him with what he can only assume is barely supressed rage.

"And you thought that hiding the identity of my mother's killer would be the way to fix that?" she exclaims, voice raising. "You think I'm so freaking _unstable_ right now that I can't handle knowing who it is?"

He winces at the words. It does sound pretty terrible when she phrases it like that. "I was just trying to help," he mumbles, sounding defeated to his own ears.

"By going behind my back? By _lying_ to me, about the most important thing in my life?" she glares at him, poking a finger into his chest. He's so close now that they're almost touching as she kneels on the edge of the mattress. "You don't get to _decide_ things like that."

He hangs his head, closing his eyes against the accusations that he knows are true, but didn't quite want to believe. She's right, he doesn't have any sort of claim over her to be able to make decisions like this.

"How long were you planning to keep that from me?"

Her voice breaks him out of his stupor, bringing him back to face the reality of the situation. The next words he utters leave his mouth without any thought or intention.

"How long were you planning to hide without calling?"

Silence meets him, and when he glances up, she's gawping at him, shocked.

"Are you kidding me?" she says on an exhale, the fight seeping out of her. "You're actually bringing this up again, after you just betrayed me?"

"I was just trying to protect you from more things to worry about," he exclaims, not being able to hold back his own frustrations any longer. "Kate, you can barely hear a loud noise without startling," she flinches as the truth of his words hit her, face only centimetres from his. "And you've had like, what? _Five_ panic attacks over the past couple of days."

She rises up further on her knees, almost nose to nose with him now. "That's not because I'm overwhelmed with the case," she barks out, face flushed with anger. " _That's_ because I was s _hot,_ and every time a hear something that even resembles a gunshot, memories of that day come flashing back like I'm there all over again. Every. Single. Time."

They stare at one another, panting heavily with riled up energy, and it takes a few moments of silence for her words to register.

Memories of that day.

 _Memories._

She remembers.

The force of her words hit him as though he's been shoved, and he stumbles back a step, face blank as he stares at her. She must finally realises what she's just said, because her entire posture deflates, eyes widening as she slumps back onto her haunches. "Castle-"

He raises a hand to stop her, closing his eyes against her excuses, the defences against her own betrayal.

"How long?" he croaks out, not even sure he wants to know the answer.

Her reply is barely a whisper, a confession drawn unwillingly from her. "I never forgot."

* * *

 _Fuck._

 _Fuck fuck fuck._

Castle's eyes slam open, turning to glare at her with a hard emptiness that steals her breath, making her feel so small under the weight of his stare.

She's screwed up. She's screwed up so spectacularly that she's not even sure she can fix it.

"I'm sorry-"

"Sorry for _what,_ Beckett?" he snarls, stalking towards her again, anger radiating off his body. "For not calling? For saying that you didn't remember when you have all along? Or, are you sorry for trying to pity me to save us both the embarrassment by lying?"

 _Embarrassment? What is he talking about?_

"Castle, _please,"_ she gasps out, wanting to fix this. Wracking her brain for any plausible way to help him understand why she lied to him, how to help him forgive her.

But he's ignoring her, striding towards the door, grabbing his jacket from where he threw it carelessly over the chair as he tugs it on. What is he doing?

When he grabs hold of the doorknob, twisting it open, she feels the overwhelming panic surge through her, tightening in her throat. "Wait, Castle, where are you going?"

"Out," he tells her bluntly, only barely turning to look at her.

"No, wait," she says, fear gripping her. She moves to try and follow him, but her muscles are still aching so much that she can't even climb off the bed. _Dammit._ "Castle, they're still looking for us, it's too dangerous."

"They're looking for _you,"_ he says, voice dark, wiped of all emotion. "I gave you two months, Beckett. I think I've earned at least half an hour to run away."

She watches helplessly, stranded on the island of the mattress as he leaves, shutting the door behind him without another word.

Practically deflating in on herself, she slumps down on the bed, fighting the tears that spring harshly to her eyes. She's at a loss with what to do, confused and shocked with how the warmth and comforting vibe between them has just been completely turned up on its head.

She always ends up hurting him, slowly breaking the parts of himself he offers her to help her heal, piece by piece, until she's sure they'll both be broken.

Sniffing, she wipes a tired hand down her face, sweeping away the stray tears that have managed to slip past her barriers. Crumpling sideways, she curls around the comforter, bunching the thick material in her fist as she clutches it, squeezing her frustration out so that she doesn't give into the urge to scream.

She grinds her teeth against the ache surrounding her body, squeezing her eyes shut as she tries to breathe through the sobs caught in her throat, refusing to break down once again. A few more tears find themselves running down her cheeks though, soaking into the blankets beneath her, and they stain the paisley pattern with darkened splodges.

He was right, she's a complete and utter _mess_ right now. Her brain is sick and her body's broken, an empty shell of the woman she once thought she was. Maybe that's not it though, maybe these issues, this intense obsession and inability to let people inside the walls she's built, have always been a part of her, dormant beneath the surface and forced above ground when a sniper broke her heart with a bullet.

Trying to regulate her breathing, she finds herself lying there, face pressed against the tear stained comforter for endless minutes, waiting for the twinge in her muscles to ease enough for her to crawl further up the bed and flop on the cushions.

She eyes the clock on the bedside cabinet, overcome with exhaustion, blinking against the blurriness of her eyes. It's already starting to get dark out, and Castle's been gone for longer than half an hour.

As she reaches for the glass of water and pops a couple of pain pills, she feels panic starting to crawl up her insides, something whispering words of warning in the back of her mind, and she quickly swallows the tablets and stands up, ignoring the pain.

Hesitantly, she makes her way towards the curtained window, lifting the sheer material with caution as she peeks out to the view outside, shadowed with the darkness of night. She squints as she notices a familiar shaped vehicle coming up the driveway, the two bright headlights making her wince.

Studying it as it comes closer, she finally realises that it's Ryan and Espo's car, coming to pick them up. Heaving out a sigh of relief, she rushes towards the door, grabbing the wooden elephant Castle gave her at the last minute, glad that there aren't any other belongings she needs to pick up, and slips outside.

She waves a hasty goodbye to Marguerite and her granddaughter, before racing outside as fast as her aching limbs will allow her. The glaring flash of headlights assaulting her vison has her shielding her eyes when she gets close enough, and she can just make out Ryan waving her over from the rolled down window.

"Beckett," he calls, and she sees Espo climbing out from his seat, rushing over to help steady her. Is she trembling again?

"Hey, guys," she pants, gratefully leaning against the arm Esposito offers her. They both look agitated, glancing around as they scan the area, and it only causes her anxiety to rise up a notch. "Everything okay?"

"Has the security detail gone?" Ryan's doesn't meet her eyes as he opens his own door, getting out to stand before her. "Where's Castle?"

Her heart starts to thud against her chest harshly, pounding against her sternum. "He, uh…he went for a walk. I think the detail left after they got word you were on your way, limited resources and all."

Both of their faces go carefully blank at hearing her words, and her stomach drops. "What's going on?" Espo ignores her, starting to hustle her towards the back of the cruiser. She climbs in, waiting for the both of them to follow and get the car going again. "Javi, what's wrong?"

He hesitates for a brief moment, and she can see him gripping the wheel tightly. "We got a call from LT on the way up here," he starts, voice low. "He's spoken to Smith, and it turns out he was tortured for the location of a file that Montgomery sent to him, one that we intercepted."

She bobs her head at him, confused. "Okay?"

Ryan puffs out a breath, running a hand through his hair as he turns back to face her. "Apparently he sent another one, a file with proof that Bracken killed your mother. An account number that was missing from the first." Her heart stops at the confirmation of the name of her mother's murderer. "And, now that he's realised Smith was never sent that file, he's hired these men to find it."

"So, why are you panicking right now? Are they torturing people to try and find it?"

"Smith told them, so they know who has the package, even if he doesn't realise it. They just need to know where he's keeping it."

Her eyes narrow, pieces slotting together in her brain.

"Beckett, do you know where Castle is?" Espo asks, driving the car smoothly through the streets as he scans the sidewalks.

"No, I tried to stop him, but he just ran off. He's supposed to be back by now," she tells them, palms beginning to sweat, stomach twisting in dread. "Why?"

She's met with silence, neither of her boys looking at her as they keep their gazes fixed firmly on their surroundings. "Guys, you need to tell me what's going on." She has a horrible feeling she already knows though.

Ryan's the one to crack, glancing back at her with pity shining in his eyes, the streetlamps gliding past streaking his face with flashes of orange. "Beckett," he says, and she holds her breath, lungs freezing. "He sent the package to Castle."

* * *

Castle kicks the loose cobblestones with the toe of his shoe, shoulders hunched as he keeps his head down, eyes fixed to the jagged sidewalk beneath him.

The village is strangely quiet once the sun goes down, so unlike the city that it unnerves him a little. He has to admit that it's weirdly calming though, no drunkards staggering past as they clutch bottles they'll eventually drop, no loud groups of college kids going on bar crawls, or honking taxi cabs. Just the silence of the night and the occasional scuff of his shoes as he accidently trips on a piece of broken path.

He takes in a long breath, trying to clear his head with the fresh air.

She remembers.

Well, actually, she never forgot.

He narrows his eyes, shoving his hands inside his pockets. Rationally he knows that declaring his love for her while she's bleeding out on the grass probably isn't the best timing he could have chosen, but if she doesn't feel the same way, why couldn't she just be honest? Or at least have the decency to explain herself before leaving him hanging while she runs off the recover on her own, with him left to pick up the pieces.

It would have hurt like hell, of course, knowing that she doesn't feel the same way, but at least he wouldn't have spent the summer watching his phone for any sign of a text or call from her. Actually, he probably would have, but that still doesn't excuse her lying to his face and making him believe that she was perfectly happy up here with, 'Doctor Iron-Abs'.

But he swears that he hasn't been imagining the little moments between them over the past couple of days, or even back before she'd been shot. The memory of sitting on that couch with her in L.A. still appears in his dreams far too often than he'd like to admit, but is he imagining that too?

Sighing, he turns his head up to the sky, letting the streetlights bathe his face as he starts trekking back towards the bed and breakfast. It's already been longer than he'd said, and even if he is angry with her, he doesn't want to cause Beckett anymore worry. Plus, he's a little anxious having left her there, even if the boys should have arrived by now and seem to think she'll be safe. It was a pretty stupid idea to come out here in the first place, but he just needs to clear his head.

Besides, there's no need for anyone to come after him.

He's not far from the large house they've been staying in, when he hears the wince-inducing _screech_ of tires down the road. Swinging around, he sees a large black car, different to the one that had been trailing them before, with several guys piling out of it as they start to advance on him.

He staggers backwards, turning around to run, but he collides with a sold form, tackling it to the ground. It's another one of the gunmen, face covered with a black ski mask, and Castle waste no time before delivering a swift punch to his face, pulling himself upwards as the man groans, and tries climb off.

Another ox of a man grabs his arms, securing them tightly behind him, and Castle swings his head back, hearing the jarring crunch of broken bone. The guy cries out, but still manages to trip Castle up, sending him to the floor again.

His knee flares up with pain, but adrenaline is coursing through him, his fight or flight instincts kicking in fully as the fire in his veins flares up, making him throw out his limbs defensively, even as the men crowd over him, pushing him to submission on the floor.

He thinks he hears another crack when he manages to swing out his elbow, but when there's a slight prick on his bicep, he feels himself sinking. Bones and muscle turning to mush, he's suddenly immobile, unable to make his limbs cooperate as a wave of nausea hits him.

 _No, get_ up, he tells himself, trying to fight against the dizziness overcoming him. _You need to get to Beckett;_ _you need to stop them from-_

The world goes dark.

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _I just want to let you guys know that I'm going on holiday tomorrow, and although I'll try to stick with the update schedule, you might have to bear with me if_ _it gets a little haphazard or I can't upload chapters!_

 _Once again, I really appreciate everyone reading and continually supporting this story, and even though I won't be able to reply to reviews for the next couple of chapters, I just want you to know that I'm so, so grateful for every single one of you who takes the time to comment, favourite or follow._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: This chapter contains descriptions of violence**

* * *

When he swims back to consciousness, Castle is still surrounded by darkness, and there's a sharp pain in the back of his head irritating him. He tries to lift his hands to rub at it, but they're stuck behind him, bound together by what he guesses is rope from the way it burns against his wrists.

His memories come rushing back to him.

This is bad. This is s _eriously_ bad. He has no doubt that the guys who attacked him are the same one's Bracken has been ordering to carry out the hit on Beckett, and now he's stuck here, immobile, with some kind of black hood over his head.

He hears mumbling somewhere else in the room, the muffled words echoing against the walls of whatever place he's being held in. Straining his ears, he tries to make out what they're saying, but it's no good.

Shifting on the chair he's been bound to, he starts to fidget with the ties around his wrists, twisting this way and that, trying to keep his movements subtle as he fights for a way to escape. Whatever these guys are planning, he doesn't want to stick around to find out.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps start ringing against the floor, getting louder as they approach him. He breaks out in a cold sweat, gritting his teeth as he desperately tries to find any kind of advantage to get him out of here.

The world becomes brighter again, and he squints against the light straining his eyes when the hood is lifted off his head.

A tall and muscular white guy is staring a down at him, surrounded by a cold blankness that practically screams 'emotionless killer', and Castle freezes, hearing nothing but the furious pumping of his heart. This man seems different. Not one of the hired guns who were chasing them before.

"Mr Castle," the man greets, the creepily formal and calm delivery sending shivers down his spine. "You've been a pretty hard guy to get hold of. But, now that we've had the opportunity to get acquainted, we can start to talk about what my employer needs from you."

Castle's blood runs cold, freezing inside his veins. Information. They want information from _him._

Just like, Smith.

He keeps his face still, trying not to reveal the sheer panic overwhelming him.

"Now," the man continues, crouching down so that he's almost eye to eye with him, notably making sure that he's still higher up, keeping control of the situation. "We are going to have a little chat. You see, we didn't realise that this 'deal' Smith had with my employer was attempted blackmail, but thankfully, your friends intercepted the leverage before it could be put into effect."

Shit, that's why they'd been after Beckett.

"But, when we…had a _talk,_ with Smith earlier today, we found out that there is more damaging information out there, in _your_ hands. Now, this is pretty annoying, because it means that we can't kill Detective Beckett without the risk of that getting out. Not that these idiots seem capable of completing such a task."

Castle stares him down, saying nothing. He doesn't blink, doesn't flinch at the stale smell of cigarette smoke caught in the man's breath, and just remains stoic, refusing to give anything away.

The man's eyes twitch, and he releases a little ' _tsk'_ as he straightens up again, motioning to another guy, still hidden in the shadows surrounding him. As he squints more against the dim light of the hanging bulb in front of him, he can see three figures on the outskirts of the darkness, arms crossed as they watch from the side-lines.

"Watch it, Maddox," one of them growls, voice so low that Castle has to strain to hear him, but the guy, _Maddox,_ just ignores him, pacing back to stand before him again.

"You know," the guy in charge starts conversationally, as if he isn't holding him captive in here and about to do who knows what. "Detective Beckett; she's pretty damn resilient." Castle straightens his spine against the shudder he feels at hearing this guy say his partner's name. "I've even pulled a trigger at her, and yet she's still stupid enough to come back for more."

 _Pulled a trigger_. This is the man who shot her.

Castle growls and lunges before he can stop himself, wrists burning in protest as they tug against the rope wrapped tightly around his hands, the force of his shifting weight causing the chair he's sat on to tilt forwards precariously, rocking onto the front legs.

Maddox chuckles darkly, eyeing him with a sick satisfaction, and Castle realises suddenly that he's given him what he wants, a reaction that they can use against him.

"Ah," Maddox smirks, eyes narrowing as he watches Castle stop struggling helplessly against the binds. He needs to save his strength. "I think we know how we're going to break you, Mr Castle."

Bile rises in his throat, and he spits it out, relishing in the glare Maddox sends him when it lands on his shoe. He regrets it quickly though when a fist comes flying out of nowhere, clocking him in the jaw with a sickening _crack._

He groans, dropping his head as he breathes against the pain blooming against the side of his face. Maddox just sighs, taking a step closer to him, cracking his knuckles loudly enough to make him wince.

"I'm a busy man, Mr Castle," he says, voice low, his eyes flashing dangerously against the dim light of the room. "So, I'm going to be straight with you. You are going to tell me where you're keeping the file that Montgomery sent you," Oh shit; he can't. He _won't._ "And, once you do, I am going to put Kate Beckett in the ground, once and for all."

Fire shoots through him, eyes darkening with pure rage, as he feels a primal hatred for the man before him that he's never experienced before. He suddenly wishes that his hands were untied, purely so he can snap Maddox's neck. "That's never going to happen."

Maddox tilts the corner of his lips upwards in a disturbing imitation of a smile, if someone like this could ever be capable of one. "We'll see about that."

Castle swallows down the fear gripping at his throat, threatening to choke him as he watches the other gunmen make their way forward, coming closer towards him. One unties his hands from behind his back, and he savours the swift moment of relief, before he instead fastens them to each arm of the chair.

He doesn't need to be a novelist to figure out why they're doing this.

Ignoring the fear inside of him, the way every nerve ending in his body is screaming for him to try and stop them, he takes in a slow inhale, accepting his fate. If they need the file this badly, then it means they can't do anything to Beckett until they find it. But they won't.

They're not going to touch her. Not while he's still breathing.

Fuelled with the realisation that _he_ is the one with the power here, the one with the file they so desperately need, he stares up at Maddox, a dark smirk twisting its way onto his lips.

"Go to hell."

* * *

Kate is pretty sure she's about to have another panic attack, sitting alone in the back of Ryan and Esposito's cruiser, eyes scanning the streets outside the windows frantically for any sight of Castle.

Her chest is heaving rapidly, the force of it pulling on her scars with every breath, and her hands are shaking as she lifts them up to push the curls of hair away from her face. She can't do this again; she can't succumb to another wave of panic when there are more important things to be worrying about.

She can't do this without Castle here.

"Espo, go _faster,"_ she orders, but she can hear the alarm ringing in her voice, and Ryan turns around to check on her.

"I'm going as fast as I can, Beckett."

Ryan leans back over the seat, reaching out a palm to place it softly on the knee she's been bouncing restlessly since they started driving. "It's going to be alright, we'll work something out."

She growls, helplessness getting the better of her as she grits her teeth against the scream she can feel building inside her, the tension aching for release. Ryan startles, and she shakes her head, feeling guilty for losing it with him.

"We need to _do_ something," she says, trying to keep calm and not automatically rush to worst case scenarios where there is nothing they _can_ do.

"And we will," Ryan tells her, lifting the corner of his mouth in a weak attempt to give her some peace of mind. "Besides, if anyone's good at talking their way out of bad situations, it's Castle."

"That's just the thing, Ryan," she shakes her head. "If they want to know where this package is, they'll want him to talk, and I know he _won't_ , not if he thinks it'll put me in danger. So what the hell are they going to do to him?"

The car lurches forward as Esposito grips the wheel tighter, pushing the car faster down the narrow lanes until they reach the end of the village. No sign of Castle. "Beckett, you need to calm down."

"The hell I do," she snarls at him, leaning forward in her seat to look over the head rest. "They've been watching us, so there's no doubt that they've grabbed him and taken him somewhere, and chances are they're breaking his fingers one by one right now."

Neither of the boys say anything, and she lets the impact of her words and the reality of the situation sink into them.

Esposito sighs quietly, and she can barely hear it over the roar of the engine as the cruiser hits the tarmac of the main road again. He slows down though, and she opens her mouth to protest when he pulls over at the side of the road, cutting off the engine and turning around in his seat to face her.

"Okay, we need a plan" he starts, glancing over at Ryan, who's mimicking his position in the front passenger seat. "Did Castle have his phone on him?"

 _His phone? Did he take his phone with-_

"Yes," she exclaims, gripping onto the front seats as she pulls against the resistance of the seatbelt. "Yeah, he took his phone with him. Call the precinct and have them GPS track it now."

"But, won't they have taken his phone?" Ryan asks, voice quiet as he flicks his gaze to her.

Esposito shakes his head, already pulling out his own phone to connect a call back to the twelfth. "Not necessarily," he explains, handing the phone over to Ryan as the dial tone starts. "They might not have known we'd be coming here looking for you both, and we can at least track his last whereabouts before they turned it off. This place is pretty sparsely populated, so I'm sure we can narrow it down."

She nods her head, hearing the words but not necessarily comprehending them right now. All her exhausted, panic-ridden brain seems to be able to focus on is the fact that her partner is in danger, and she's never going to be able to forgive herself if anything happens to him.

* * *

 _Pain. So much fucking pain._

It's all his brain has the ability to comprehend right now.

His vision is blurred with streaks of red, warm blood slithering down his face from the gash on his brow bone. The pounding in his head is from a boot kicking him when they'd lost their patience and knocked the chair to the floor, his bones jarring with the impact. They'd kicked him, roughed him around a little, before hoisting him back up again, limbs screaming with pain.

He wishes they'd left him on the floor.

The same six words echo dully inside his head, and he's so disorientated that he can't even tell if they're being said out loud anymore, or if his brain is just stuck on a never ending loop.

" _Tell me where the file is."_

He doesn't crack though, he can't. They can batter him and break him, in fact, they already have, but he'll never tell them. Just clench his teeth against the agony pounding all over him, ignore the sick things they're saying about Beckett to taunt him, and just try to keep in the yelps and cries being ripped from his chest, not wanting to give them the satisfaction.

The heavy scrape of a chair being dragged ruthlessly across the floor makes him glance upwards slightly, having to close his eyes against the dizzying vertigo that's overwhelming his vision only moments after.

Maddox sits himself down in the chair, knee to knee with him, and Castle can just tell that he's staring him down, planning what to do next with that sick precision he has. He seems to be waiting him out, to see if he'll say anything or plead with him. But he won't. He refuses to even acknowledge his presence.

"I've got to hand it to you, Mr Castle," Maddox starts, and he can barely hear him over the deafening pound of his pulse. "You're certainly resilient, especially for an author." He pauses, and Castle hears the loud sound of Maddox cracking his knuckles, tapping what sounds like a gun against his thigh. It makes his head swim. "But, I have a job to do, and whether you like it or not, I will be completing that job. So, why don't you just accept the inevitable and tell me where the file is, so that I can put this bullet where it belongs and end all this nonsense for you?"

Castle doesn't respond, just inhales a shaky breath through his bleeding nose, wincing when he feels the ache of the bruises.

"As a writer," Maddox tries again, a sinister edge to his tone that makes Castle's skin crawl, and he has to suppress a shudder. "I bet you use your hands a lot."

Castle's heart stops, skipping a beat inside of his chest as he opens his eyes, staring down at Maddox's feet as he keeps his head down.

Before he even has a moment to brace himself, he feels Maddox grab hold of the pinkie finger on his left hand, twisting it brutally at such an unnatural angle, that Castle immediately hears the sickening _snap._

He cries out, every synapse in his body screaming in agony as the bones in his finger break. Throwing his head back, he clenches his jaw, body twitching as he sucks in pained breaths through his teeth.

"See what happens when you don't cooperate?" Maddox sighs, _the asshole,_ still gripping the now broken finger. He gives it another little yank, twisting it so that Castle feels tears spring to his eyes as he yelps. "This is all pretty unnecessary, don't you think?"

" _Fuck you."_

Another crunch of his bones, and he can almost feel them being crushed to pieces beneath Maddox's large hands as he breaks two more fingers. Castle practically blacks out with the agony, body shaking violently as he bucks against the restraints. He's never felt pain as intense as this, and he's almost sure that he's going to pass out.

It doesn't matter, so long as they don't hurt Beckett. They can do whatever they please to him, so long as she's safe.

He distantly hears the sound of bullets echoing off the walls surrounding him, and for a dark moment, he hopes that one of them will ricochet off a surface and hit him, stop this endless torture of pain and remind him what it feels like not to hurt. The sounds of men crying out, yelling, and gunfire, swim through his head, but he can't focus on it, can't focus on _anything,_ until he becomes aware of a soft touch, the soothing warmth the first pleasant feeling he's experienced in the last few hours.

A familiar voice, pleading with him, calling him back from the depths of darkness with a siren call. But he can't talk, not if he wants Beckett to be safe.

 _Beckett…_

"Castle, please," the voice pleads with him, the gentle familiarity calming him. "Oh fuck, Castle, _please_ open your eyes. Don't leave me."

He blinks open his eyelids, vision blurred and dizzy, but he can still see her. The most beautiful sight he could have ever hoped to lay eyes on. "Kate," he mumbles, voice rough and feeling as though he's speaking through a mouthful of cotton wool.

She releases a whimper of relief, and he notices that the warmth on his cheeks are from her hands, wiping the blood and tears from his face. "Yeah, it's me, Castle," she gasps out, smiling tearfully at him. "You're okay, you're gonna be okay."

Flicking his eyes over her shoulder, he sees Ryan and Esposito rounding up the men, a couple of them shot and bleeding on the floor, cuffing them as they call for back up. Maddox is among them, _thank God,_ hands tied behind his back as he glares over towards him.

He glances back at Beckett, who's shaking herself, fumbling as she unties the restraints on his wrists.

"I'm so sorry," she's whispering, peppering the unmarred skin of his right hand with soft kisses before she reaches his mangled one, whimpering when she catches sight of it. It probably looks as bad as it feels then. " _God,_ I'm so sorry, Rick."

"Not your fault," he rasps out, entire body throbbing with pain. "They wanted the file."

"I know, I know," she nods, head bobbing so rapidly that it makes him dizzy. "You saved me. You're an idiotic _fool_ for doing so, but you saved me."

He tries to smile at her, but he thinks it comes out as more of a grimace. "Never gonna let anything happen to you, Kate."

The next thing he's aware of is Kate Beckett gripping the sides of his face, pulling herself up towards him to press her lips against his.

He blanks, every nerve ending numbing for a sweet moment, except for the places that she's touching. She's soft and warm and _perfect,_ and she pulls away far too soon, stroking his cheeks gently with her thumbs as she stares up at him, eyes shining.

"You're supposed to do that when I can kiss you back," he says, ignoring the ache from the bruises marring his face to send her a grin. It was worth it. Every single bruise, cut, and broken bone. And he'd do it all again for her.

She sniffs loudly, tilting her head at him with a watery smile as she kneels in front of him. She reaches up to brush the flop of hair, likely matted with dried blood and sweat now, pushing it back off his face. Her fingers brush the laceration on his brow bone, and he hisses at the sting.

"Hurts," he slurs, the brief relief he's experienced when he saw her starting to fade, the sharp, piercing pain starting to flare up again.

"I'm sorry," she chokes out, and he wishes he could move his hand up to brush the tears from her cheeks. "I know it hurts, I know. But help is on the way, Castle, I promise."

His eyes start to blur again, and he shuts them against the wave of nausea wrapping itself around him. The sounds surrounding him are starting to feel distant, like he's travelling through a tunnel and getting further and further away, and he's only brought back when his left hand, mangle and bloody, is released from the restraints. He feels the agonising sting of his fingers as Beckett accidentally moves them, the pulsing throb of hot pain from the rope burns cutting into his wrist, and he yelps.

" _Fuck,"_ he growls, the fingers on his other hand clenching tightly against the arm of the chair, nails digging into the wood. "Beckett-"

" _Shh,_ it's okay," she hushes him, now cradling his injured hand towards her. "I'm so sorry, just hang on for me, please?"

He feels sick, the pain overwhelming him as his vision tunnels. Not having the energy to hold his head up anymore, he feels it drop, eyelids heavy as he tries to fight against the black wave pulling him under, the sweet peace of numbing darkness.

"Wait, no," he hears Beckett cry, hand gripping the material of his shirt covering his shoulder. "Stay with me. Castle, listen, you need to _stay with me."_

He wants to stay with her. Fights with every screaming fibre of his being to hold onto the threads of awareness and stay right here with her, but he feels his fingers go slack, body numbing as his world darkens.

" _No,_ Castle," she's crying, pleading with him as her voice breaks. "Don't leave me, _please_ don't leave me."

He's fading, only able to hang onto the sweet lull of her voice as he fights to stay with her.

"Kate," he murmurs, gripping onto the last shreds of consciousness to give her the words he so desperately needs to say. "I love you."

As he sinks, he can hear the faint sound of her gasp, the words she whispers just for him a second before the lights go out.

"I love you too, Castle."

* * *

 _Hey, so I managed to update for you guys! Sorry that I haven't been able to reply to comments, but I just want you to know that I appreciate every single one so, so much (also, thanks to everyone who wished me a happy holiday)._

 _I hope you like this chapter, and I'll do my best to get the next one up on time for you!_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

* * *

In a sick twist of roles, they let her ride with Castle in the back of the ambulance during the drive to the hospital, much like he did when she was shot. She spent the entire time gripping his good hand, the one not twisted unnaturally with fingers poking at angles she didn't think were possible, and it makes her sick just thinking about it.

She had been holding onto him like a lifeline, latching onto those precious words he'd given her, hoping that he managed to hear her say them back, giving him something to hang onto as he rests in the darkness.

Lifting a shaky hand to run it through the tangle of her hair, she slumps against the hard metal of the seats in the waiting room. They'd taken him in to check for more broken bones, possible head trauma…internal bleeding.

She closes her eyes against the memory of the doctor's clinical accuracy as he explained it all to her, everything that could have gone so very wrong. Esposito and Ryan had called for trustworthy backup to take Maddox, the man she now knows shot her, and the other gunmen back to the precinct.

She's been sitting here for what she guesses is a couple of hours now, although time stopped making sense to her after he'd left her alone in the hotel room, and the stench of chemicals and cleaning agents brings back unpleasant memories from the last time she'd been stuck in a hospital, trapped in a stiff, uncomfortable bed as they kept her drugged up with painkillers that gave her night terrors.

She's had to fight off several well-meaning nurses, all trying to examine her and get her to lie down, but she keeps refusing, needing to know whether Castle will be okay first. Although, after a few none too subtle nudges from Ryan and Esposito, she'd agreed to a quick check over a while ago, and despite not being too happy with how overworked her body is, they'd agreed to just shoot her up with some good drugs for the time being.

So, now she waits; lets the guilt churn inside her gut as she crouches over her knees, staring at the scuffed toes of her ballet flats, torn up and ruined after the day's events. She's at least changed into the clean tank top and leggings that the boys brought from her locker for her to wear. They had even found the hooded jacket Castle kept in there for emergencies, and she's wearing it now, huddled inside the over-sized material and pulling the sleeves over her hands as she relishes in the lingering smell of him still faintly clinging to the cloth.

The corridor they're waiting in is mostly empty, and Ryan sits next to her, thankfully not saying a word and understanding her need for space, while Esposito leans against the wall, arms crossed and eyes scanning the long corridor. Her ever faithful watch dog.

She just can't believe this happened. That Castle's in surgery right now because he had information that he refused to give up to protect _her._

And she _kissed_ him. She kissed and said that she loved him, and he might be dying right now.

This is all her fault.

There's a sudden bang at the end of the corridor, a startlingly loud noise in the sombre silence they've surrounded themselves with, and Beckett sees only a flash of red before she jolts to her feet.

Alexis Castle storms toward her, fire in her eyes as bright as her hair. Martha's hurrying behind her, the woman looking frayed and panicked, and Beckett hates herself a little for forgetting to call them. She casts a quick and grateful look over to Ryan, but before she has the chance to say anything, Castle's daughter is in front of her, a puffy-eyed glare shooting right through her.

"This is _your_ fault," the teenager cries, an accusing finger pointed directly at her chest, right where a bullet burned through her weeks ago. "It's always because of _you._ You're the one he jumps in front of bullets for, risks his life for every day, and now he's in _here_."

Beckett lets her have her moment, trying not to reveal how much the words break her as she lets Alexis hurtle her accusations. Besides, it's what she believes herself.

"My dad," the redhead takes a shaky breath, visibly fighting back tears as her voice cracks over her next words. "My dad is in here because of you."

Beckett doesn't say anything; doesn't defend herself or try to justify anything, and instead just absorbs each barb, letting them pinch her skin and tear her apart as she drops her defences. Ryan stands up, moves to intervene and play mediator, but she shakes her head at him.

Martha grabs the teenager by the shoulder, turning her around and pulling her to her chest for a hug as Alexis finally breaks down into sobs. Beckett sees the woman mouthing an apology over her, shaking her head in reassurance, even though she knows that Martha must blame her too, and justifiably so.

She closes her eyes, turning away from Castle's family, when she hears a throat clearing behind the group of them.

"Family of Richard Castle?" It's the same doctor from earlier, the surgeon working on Castle.

"Yes?" Martha asks, pulling Alexis with her as she moves to talk to the man. Beckett backs away, every part of her screaming to stay close, tell him that Castle is her partner, and that she might as well be family.

But she's not, and it's not her place.

Beckett's grateful that Martha speaks to the doctor within earshot of her and the boys, and she wishes she was feeling brave enough to hug the woman.

She listens to Castle's prognosis with a heavy heart, fearing the worst. _Badly bruised ribs, a concussion from blows to the head, and three broken fingers on his left hand that have now been successfully set._ _He's resting now, but he's expected to regain consciousness soon with little problem._ Everyone's shoulders seem to droop in relief, and she feels the overwhelming release of the weight sitting heavily on her since she found him finally being lifted.

He's going to be okay.

God, she's going to cry.

Suddenly overwhelmed with the whole situation, in addition to the fact that she hasn't been around this many people for a while, she excuses herself quietly. Ignoring Ryan and Espo's concerned gaze watching her, she strides down the hallway, trying to wipe the tears overflowing from her lids as she rushes to the women's restroom.

Thankfully it's empty, and she locks herself into one of the stalls, collapsing onto the closed lid as she's wrecked with sobs, the force of the cries being dragged from her chest making her ache all over. She repeats the words inside her head like a mantra. _He's okay_. He's going to be okay and she's going to have the chance to tell him those words again, let him say them to her, this time in a situation that doesn't involve near death or violence.

Dropping her head to her hands, she tries to think back to the ways Castle's been helping her regulate her breathing during these moments of overwhelming panic. She presses a hand firmly to the scar on her chest, feeling the hasty beat of her heart, focusing on the feel and suddenly remembering how she and Castle had done the same thing just yesterday morning on the floor of the bathroom, in a moment of peace that feels like lifetimes ago.

She wipes her eyes, taking in one last trembling breath, before she puts a palm to the wall of the stall, standing shakily and opening the door. Stumbling out, she makes her way towards the row of sinks, splashing her face with water while making sure to avoid her reflection in the mirror in front of her.

Turning to leave, she abruptly freezes, startled at the sight of the last person she expected to see in here.

"Alexis," she says, voice raspy, clogged with tears. Castle's daughter is watching her carefully, eyes wide as they rake over her, probably taking in how small and ragged she looks right now in comparison to the put-together detective she's used to.

Crap, has she been listening to her crying?

Alexis opens her mouth, as if she's about to say something, but no words comes out, and the girl stands there, mouth gaping. Her hair is tied in a mussed braid, as if she'd been woken up from sleep to come here, eyes rimmed red from crying, and tears stain her cheeks as they shine in the bright lights of the bathroom.

"I'm sorry," she hears the girl whisper, voice barely audible and sounding just as grief stricken as her own.

Beckett shakes her head vehemently, stepping forward so that the two of them are standing closer. "No," she tells her firmly. "Don't be sorry, you've done nothing wrong."

Alexis hesitates, flicking her eyes away and staring at the ground as she fidgets, twisting her hands together. "I shouldn't have said that," she explains, a maturity to her that Beckett could never imagine herself having at that age. "I was scared, and I took it out on you."

It's strange, the connection she has with Alexis. All the parenting advice she's given and all of the stories Castle has told her about her childhood, yet neither of them have really interacted very much in person. But still, she doesn't want Alexis to feel any guilt about a reaction that is completely normal in this kind of situation. A situation she should never have found herself in.

"You have nothing to apologise for, Alexis," she reassures her, fighting to bring a small smile to her lips, but kind of failing miserably when the corners of her mouth just end up twitching awkwardly.

"It's just," Alexis furrows her brows, cutting herself off. Beckett wants to tell her to stop, that this isn't necessary, but she has a feeling the teen needs to say whatever's on her mind. "All this summer, he's been miserable, and after watching him jump in front of that bullet for you…" the redhead shudders, and Beckett finds herself suppressing her own chill at the memory. "I just thought that he cared more about you than you do about him. But now…"

Alexis looks up at her, big blue eyes so similar to her father's that it makes her head swim, and she has to blink away the thought to focus again. Alexis needs to understand this.

"I care about your father very much, Alexis," she tells her, voice soft as she tries to convey the truth behind every word.

The girl smirks good-naturedly, nodding her head towards her. "I can see that."

Beckett chuckle is self-deprecating, and she pushes her hair back behind her ear, trying not to wince as it gets caught in a snag. " _And,"_ she stresses. "Despite what happened today, I _promise_ you that I will do everything in my power to make sure that he comes home safely to you."

Alexis stares at her thoughtfully for a moment, arms crossed as she watches her in appraisal. "He cares about you a lot."

 _I love you, Kate._

"I care about him, too."

After another few moments of tense silence, Alexis nods, her face softening in what Beckett might dare to call approval. "I know you do."

* * *

She watches him sleep, finding herself transfixed by the slow flicker of his eyes beneath the weight of his closed lids, the steady rise and fall of his chest, each breath reassuring her that he's here, that he's alive.

She had waited graciously for Alexis and Martha to visit him first, thrumming with tension as she bounced her knees, her palms pressed firmly between them.

He'd woken up earlier. The doctor, who she guiltily realises she can't recall the name of, explained that he had regained consciousness, and that he would be allowed a couple of visitors at a time.

Even though every cell inside of her ached to see him, to rush in there and stroke the flop of his hair back from his face and see for herself that he really is okay, she knew that Martha and Alexis should obviously be the ones to see him first. Plus, after her little talk with Alexis in the bathroom, she didn't want to do anything that could risk ruining the hesitant trust she's seemed to gain from the girl.

So she waited. She sent Ryan and Espo back to the city to handle things with Maddox, and sat alone in the dim light of the corridor, until an hour or so later the redheads returned, looking solemn, but at least more at peace. Martha took one look at her, probably realised how torn apart she is over all of this, and pulled her up, drawing her into a hug.

"He's going to be okay, kiddo," she'd whispered reassuringly in her ear, and it had taken everything within her not to burst into tears again. "He was asking for you."

With the hint of approval and a knowing look from the woman, Martha had led Alexis out of the hall while murmuring something about getting hot chocolate, and a nurse had approached her, motioning for her to follow.

And now she's sitting here in an uncomfortable plastic chair gazing over the lines of his face, the cuts and bruises marring the soft skin that she so desperately wants to touch. So she finds herself leaning forward, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him, and strokes her fingers gently across his cheek, soothing the yellowing bruise on his cheekbone with her thumb, careful not to hurt him.

She's so mesmerised by the feel of him, the play of colours painting his skin, that she doesn't notice that he's woken up until she pulls away slightly, shocked to see the piercing gaze of two blue eyes staring directly at her.

"Castle," she gasps, breath catching at the sight of him awake in front of her, propped up in a hospital bed and decorated with sores, left hand wrapped up in a cast, but most definitely _alive._

The corners of his mouth lift slightly, and the edges of his eyes crinkle in a smile that melts her, making her slump against her elbows on the bed next to him in an effort to get closer. "Hey, Beckett."

She sends him a watery smile, trying to blink back the tears fighting to fall from her lids, but when he lifts his good hand up, delicately brushing his fingers against her jaw, she gives up and lets the teardrops leak from her eyes.

"Hey, don't cry," he soothes, voice rough with sleep, looking at her with a gaze that's way too concerned for someone current lying in a hospital bed. "Do I look that bad? You're going to bruise a man's ego, you know."

"You already have too many bruises," she huffs out a laugh, shaking her head at him. This ridiculous man. "Don't worry though, they just make you look more rugged, Castle."

His eyelids droop, and he smiles, looking satisfied. "Ah, that's alright then."

Her hand lifts without thought, and she places her palm on top of his, keeping it pressed against her cheek, sighing against the comforting warmth of his touch. She didn't think she was ever going to have the chance to do this.

"I thought I was going to lose you," she whispers, closing her eyes against the admission, the understanding in his eyes. He knows exactly how she's feeling, doesn't he?

She feels his thumb stroke against her skin, brushing away the escaped tear rolling down her cheek, and she has to resist shuddering at the touch. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Beckett."

He looks exhausted lying before her, and she can hardly blame him, but there are a couple of things that they should probably talk about.

"Castle-"

"Did you mean it?"

Blinking, she lifts her head to study him, the way he looks so uncharacteristically small and fragile as he stares up at her, eyes pleading. There's no guessing what he's talking about.

Drawing in a deep breath, she takes a moment to collect herself before she dives into this.

"Did _you_ mean what you said after I'd been shot?"

He clenches his jaw, but looks like he quickly regrets the action when it pulls his bruises, making him wince, and he drops his hand. She tries to pretend that she doesn't miss the touch. "You know I did."

She bites her lip, dropping her chin to stare at the crisp white of the bedsheets, made neatly and with clinical precision, just like everything around here. Truthfully, she hadn't been one hundred percent certain, believing for a while that her unwell mind had been playing tricks on her.

But this week has changed that.

"I kissed you."

There's no need for her to look up to be able to tell that he's smirking right now. "I certainly know you did that."

"It's just…"

Trailing off, there's a long pause as she thinks about what to say, how to properly articulate the buzzing inside of her head without screwing things up again.

"Kate?"

She shakes her head. "Castle, I don't know if I'm ready for this right now," she explains, hating herself for the expression of hurt she put on his face. "You know better than anyone that I'm still a mess, and now you're injured too, so I think we might just need a little bit of time, just to work through things for a bit."

"Is this your way of telling me that 'you'll call', again?"

Looking up, startled by the bitterness lacing his words, she suddenly realises how that must sound to him, how he must think she's trying to run again. Even though every instinct inside of her is telling her to do just that, she turns her back on it, deciding to be brave for once.

But she does need a little bit of time, and she's sure he does too.

"A week," she says decisively, furrowing her brow in concentration as she flicks her glance back up to him. "You're going to be discharged tomorrow, and you're going to go to the Hamptons with your family. I'm going to stay here with my dad to let the hospital check me over, and also help sort things out at the precinct, and then, exactly _one week_ from today, I will call you, Castle. I promise."

He eyes her warily, and she hates that she's the result of such caution building up in a man who used to be so care-free. Not shying away from his gaze, she stares him down, determined to convey that she really does mean it this time.

She will call him.

"One week?" he asks hesitantly, and she nods quickly, not one trace of doubt inside of her as she does so.

"Yes, and during that week, you will spend some much needed recovery time with your mother and daughter."

"And you'll get yourself checked out and looked after?"

She rolls her eyes at his concern, but nods her agreement, knowing that she'll have to ensure that there hasn't been too much damage to muscle or her scar tissue over the last couple of days. "Yes, I will."

His eyelids start to flutter, and she can see the painkillers starting to drag him under again, lulling him towards sleep with the promise of blissful nothingness, taking him away from the pain he's most certainly feeling right now.

"Kate," he slurs, sleep already overtaking him. "Are you gonna stay? Jus' for now?"

Oh, this man. How on earth did she think she could spend a summer without him?

She smiles, standing up to lean forward over him as his eyes droop shut and he sinks back into the cushions of the bed.

Doing what she promised herself, she gently brushes back the sweat dried strands from his forehead, pressing a soft kiss below his hairline, and breathes in the comforting scent of him as she stills, savouring a moment with her lips to his skin.

"I'm going to stay," she whispers against him, slowly pulling away to look at his face, relaxed and slack with sleep now. "I'll be right here when you wake up, Castle."

* * *

 _A/N: Sorry this one is a little late and that the timing is off, but I did my best to make sure it was up for you._

 _Also, I want to say a HUGE thank you to Evan for basically beta-ing this chapter for me, and helping with editing. She's the reason I managed to get this up tonight._

 _Thank you all so much for your on-going support, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter._


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:**

* * *

She doesn't call.

It's been a week, and he hasn't heard a word from her.

He heaves out a heavy sigh, trying not to let the bitter disappointment drown him as he checks his phone for notifications again, telling himself that he knew all along this would happen. It's who she is; she hides from her feelings and runs away. Licks her wounds in private and builds a tower around herself that only succeeds in walling people out.

Dropping the phone onto the coffee table with a clatter, he pushes himself up from the couch, making his way towards the kitchen to get a glass of water. His mother and Alexis are thankfully already upstairs asleep, and won't have to endure any more of his wallowing.

He understands her need for space, but he really thought that she'd been genuine, that she would keep her promise this time and call him after everything they've been through together. She kissed _him,_ didn't she? Told him that she feels the same way.

But…she also lied for months. Maybe he'd imagined the whole thing, or she was just caught up in the moment. She was scared and thought he was going to die, so maybe she just did it on a whim.

Either way, she never called him, and that says enough about the bleakness of the situation on its own.

He grabs a bottle from the fridge with his left hand, the cold condensation soaking the bandage, and he unscrews the cap, taking a big swig of water before walking over to the windows, looking outside.

It's pretty dark out now, a deep grey of dusk blanketing everything it touches, the moon peeking over the heavy clouds brushing the sky. He can't sleep though, his writer's imagination too wired to rest. Typing obviously isn't an option right now, but Alexis had binged-shopped loads of notebooks for him during the day he spent lying in hospital for observation, finding the distraction of shopping easier than spending time in such a depressing place.

He's in plentiful supply of them now though, and has already filled a couple, the events of the past couple of weeks more than enough fodder to please his eager imagination. One of them is sitting on the counter before him now, decorated with a 'zombie apocalypse preparation' sign on the cover, which he and Beckett had both gotten a laugh out of when she'd brought it back for him.

Beckett had stayed with him that first day, only leaving when the nurses asked to check her scar tissue for damage or any setbacks with her physical state. She'd probably need to spend an extra few weeks resting to repair the strain to her muscles, and also has a strict high-calorie diet to stick to in order to get her weight back up, but other than that, she thankfully seemed to be okay.

Well…physically anyway.

He's at least heard from Ryan that by using the file Montgomery sent him, they've managed to prove Senator William Bracken is the man responsible for Johanna Beckett's murder, and along with Cole Maddox's testimony, they should be able to build a solid case against him. Which means she's not in danger from him anymore.

But, she could be having nightmares again, she could be having panic attacks and not telling her dad about it all the way back in the city, far away and not calling him to let him know that she's safe.

He chugs a few more large gulps from the bottle, placing it down heavily before pressing his head against the cool glass of the window, watching the soothing roll of waves in the ocean, eyes straining to see through the dimness of the early night.

He closes his eyes tiredly, exhausted after everything that has transpired these past couple of weeks. The mental and physical fatigue is finally starting to catch up with him.

A knock resounds through the halls of the house, startling him out of the wallowing daze he's fallen into. He glances towards the door, curious as to who could be calling for him this late. It's probably a bad idea to answer, and he should just go upstairs and get some sleep, but something draws him forwards, beckoning him towards the front door to answer.

He creaks it open slowly, mindful of Alexis and his mother asleep upstairs, as he tries to keep things quite. Taking a glances through the gap, his stomach drops out of him in shock when he sees who his late night visitor is.

"Beckett," he manages to get out, voice sounding choked where it catches in his chest.

She's standing on the porch before him, eyes shining and a small, shy smile gracing her lips. It's only been a week, and a long one at that, but she already looks better. Her skin seems to have lost some of that paper-thin paleness, the dark circles underneath her eyes softening, and her cheeks already seem to have filled in some of the hollow sharpness that had made her look ghostly and drawn, constantly tired.

She looks more like Kate Beckett again, rather than the small, haunted woman made up of brittle bones and sharp edges he'd found crumpled on her bedroom floor two weeks ago.

A quick glance down shows a couple of duffle bags and a small suitcase are piled down by her feet, and he hears the sound of a car setting off down the gravelled drive way leading to his summer house.

"Hey, Castle," she says softly, looking nervous suddenly, shuffling her feet inside the loose, pale pink ballet flats she's wearing, tugging on the sleeve of her jacket. Her hair is curled and she's wearing a light dusting of make-up too, and he can't help but smile at how wonderfully _alive_ she looks already.

It's amazing what this woman can achieve when she actually decides to rest and take care of herself.

He realises that he's still standing there, staring at her dumbly, and she looks at him in question, eyes shifting in the awkward silence he's keeping them in.

Catching himself suddenly, he shakes his head, opening the door further and inviting her inside.

"Uh, h-hey," he stutters, the surprise of her arrival mixed with the late hour makes him unsure of what to say, how to handle the fact that the woman he's in love with is standing right here in front of him, when he was sure he wouldn't be seeing her again for weeks. "What are you doing here?"

"Um, my dad dropped me off," she explains, following him inside hesitantly as she picks up her bags. Maybe he's not the only one feeling nervous right now. "I know I didn't call, but if you don't mind me staying for a couple of days, I thought I could talk to you in person instead."

He stares at her, hearing her words but taking a few moments before he can fully comprehend them. "Yeah," he bobs his head in enthusiasm, moving to shut the door behind her. "Yeah, of course you can stay. You're uh, you're always welcome here."

Her eyes are wide, shining with something he can't quite put a finger on, the beautiful blend of green and brown around her iris staring up at him, when she drops her bags to the floor, crowding against him.

"Good," she nods decisively, placing one hand flat against his chest tentatively, and he can practically hear the furious pumping of his heart going into overdrive at the contact. He wonders if she can hear it. Her gaze flicks down to his mouth as she bites her lip nervously, and despite the innocence of the gesture, the heated flare of arousal building inside of him is enough to fill his head with images that she'd probably shoot him for. "Because there's something I want to do."

Barely having a chance to take a breath, he staggers backwards, taking her with him when she loops her arms around his neck, and he's not at all prepared for the perfect heat of her mouth when she draws herself up to him and smashes her lips to his.

His brain short-circuits, no longer functioning, and he reacts by pure animalistic need, pulling her closer towards him with a firm hand to her waist, quickly loosening it when he realises that it's his injured one, while the other tangles itself into the curls of her hair as he kisses her back. She hums in response, and he brings her closer, tilting his head and opening his mouth at the request of her exploring tongue.

It's perfect. Everything about this is more than even his overactive mind could ever have imagined, and he's imagined _a lot._ The taste of her, the feel of the silky strands of her hair wrapping around his fingers and the heat of her pressed up against him so wonderfully that he doesn't quite know what to do with his other hand, the one that's bandaged and he would _really_ rather be touching her with right now.

His back presses against the edge of the kitchen counter, and he spins around, crowding into her as she releases a muffled moan into his mouth that has him pulling her thigh over his hip, trying to get even closer.

Her hands are roaming eagerly, one stroking the slight stubble on his cheek while the other travels lower, around his front and down his shirt, nails scratching the newly exposed skin as she fumbles with the buttons. Growling, he pulls away from her lips with an audible _smack,_ quickly hushing her whine of protest, which he is certain was _not_ intentional, as he peppers a trail of kisses down her neck, drinking in the sweet nectar of her as he sucks at her pulse point.

"Oh, _fuck,_ " she gasps, knees dropping out from under her as she grips hold of his arms, trying to keep herself standing as her head tilts back, allowing him easier access in his mission to thoroughly undo her with his mouth.

He chuckles, nuzzling the soft skin of her neck as he squeezes her hips, letting his thumbs stroke the jut of her hipbone where he's rucked up her shirt slightly. "You okay there, Beckett?"

Pulling away, she glares at him, before taking both sides of his face in her hands and dragging him back down to meet her lips. She pulls his lower lip in-between her teeth, and he feels his chest rumble on a groan.

"Shut up and kiss me, Castle," she growls, breaking the seam of his lips with her tongue, twisting it in a way that makes him stumble into her.

He's more than happy to oblige.

Gripping her hip with his usable right hand, he tries to hoists her up to the counter, and she quickly gets the memo, jumping up so that her legs wrap around him, mindful of his bruised ribs as they press together so perfectly that it almost undoes him right there. His hands are spanning her back, flirting with the clasp of her bra as she cups his face in both of her hands, pulling away from him and bumping her forehead softly against his.

She pants against his mouth, and everything slows suddenly, time finally catching up with them as they stare at one another, the mixture of surprise and arousal reflecting back at him surely a mirror image of his own expression.

"Hi," he breathes against her, caressing the silky skin of her back with his thumb.

A shy smile forms on her lips, and she flutters her eyelashes, rubbing the tip of her nose against his. "Hey."

He pants out a soft laugh, not being able to believe any of this, her being here, in his arms, after a hot and heavy make out session when he'd been sure that she hadn't felt the same way.

There's a slight possibility that he's been wrong with that assumption.

"Kate," he says, still holding her to him, revelling in the surrounding warmth of her. "I thought you weren't ready for this?"

The smile she gives him stops his heart, freezes the breath inside his lungs for a moment with the sheer _love_ he sees there. He can't even doubt it anymore, not when she's looking at him like he's her world, her eyes bright and lips turned upwards in a soft beam that he's making his mission to see every day for the rest of his life.

"I realised that I don't want to do this by myself," she whispers, one hand coming up to stroke the shell of his ear, making him shudder slightly at the touch, his nerve endings still on fire from even the slightest contact. "Not anymore."

He draws her in for a another kiss, softer this time as they take in one another and just savour the feeling of being in each other's arms. The staccato beat of his heart has slowed slightly, but it's not long before she gets impatient again, starting to tug the short strands of his hair to bring him closer, and he smothers a grin, burying against her as they turns towards the stairs and stumble up to his bedroom.

* * *

Awareness calls to her as the sun rises, bringing Kate's warm and sated body back to consciousness when the streaks of sunlight touch her eyes through the gaps in the curtains.

She hums, stretching out against the sinfully comfortable sheets, taking a moment to just appreciate the blissfully weightless feel of her body for a moment, before blinking her eyes open, letting them adjust to the bright morning light bathing everything in a golden aura.

It takes her a few moments to realise that she's somewhere unfamiliar.

Startling slightly, she moves to sit up, gasping at the tightness in her abs as she props herself up against the pillows, looking around her. Her gaze lands on the man sleeping next to her, and memories come rushing back to her in vivid detail, every word, emotion, and touch she had felt last night suddenly overloading her memory, and she can feel herself blushing, warm from the inside out.

Holy shit.

She has to press her thighs together and bury herself back under the sheets to try to wave off the surge of arousal quickening her heart rate at just the mere thought of what the two of them had done last night, how he'd felt, how he'd made _her_ feel.

God, he'd made her _beg._

Biting her lip, she shuffles onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow as she looks over at her partner, still dreaming with his face half smushed into his pillow, his hair mussed and flopping over his forehead adorably. She'd certainly had a part in making it that way.

He looks so peaceful while he's sleeping, the lines of his face softer, and she suddenly has an irresistible urge to lean down and press her lips to the soft skin of his cheek, the curve of his nose, and the thin flutter of his eyelids.

She follows the muscles of his back until they meet the sheet drawn low over his legs and hips, and she inhales a shaky breath, trying to resist just flinging the flimsy material off him and straddle his hips while she leans down to whisper in his ear, rouse him in more ways than one with words of what she wants to do to him.

While her gaze is firmly fixed on the play of his back muscles, she doesn't notice his eyes flickering, and she jumps when she feels the lazy stroke of a hand at her cheek. He's staring up at her, smiling languidly and looking so damn _satisfied_ that she can't help the little boost to her ego.

"Morning," he says dazedly, chest rumbling with sleep. His eyes are completely focused on her, and she can't help but blush under his gaze, lowering her head to hide behind the wayward curls of her hair. "Sleep well?"

She laughs softly, biting her lip as she glances up at him from under her eyelashes. His eyes darken as he watches her, and she feels a little more confident. "Kind of," she starts, shrugging and causing the sheet to fall slightly. Her voice is hoarse, rough with something more than sleep. "Someone kept waking me up."

He chuckles throatily, and she presses her thighs harder together at her body's automatic reaction to him. "Well, judging by the sounds you were making, I'd say you were enjoying rounds two and three well enough at the time."

Her gaze flies up to his, startled, only to find him grinning at her smugly, his eyes crinkling.

Oh God. This is _Castle._ She had eagerly participated in three rounds of _amazing_ sex with her _partner_ who brings her coffee and gets on her nerves daily with his antics and talkative mouth and-

Fuck, his _mouth._

"Hey, Kate," he calls softly, propping himself up on one elbow, his bandaged hand carefully out of the way. How on earth they'd managed not to jar it or hurt his ribs last night is beyond her. "You okay?"

She blinks, turning to face him as she reads the concern in his furrowed brows, the slight crease in the tightness of his jaw. He's worried that she regrets it.

Bringing both hands to his face, she pulls him towards her. He comes willingly, rolling over her so that she's on her back, nestled against the pillows. Meeting his lips with her own, she melts against him, trying to convey with her actions how intensely she does _not_ regret last night, how she could never regret finally being brave enough to dive into more with him.

It seems to do the job, and he hums into the kiss so she can feel the vibrations of his chest against her, the sheets tangling around their limbs and catching them in a trap that she doesn't want to escape.

She slows the frenzy of the kiss, stroking her hand against the tickle of stubble at his cheek, and she pulls away to stare up at him, this beautiful man who has given her so much.

It's time to start giving back.

"I meant it, you know," she tells him, sighing against the feel of him over her, the cradle of his arms making her feel safe, untouchable to the rest of the world. Not untouchable to him though, especially now that she knows what his hands can do… Hell, what's it going be like when he can use _both_?

Right, not the time for that.

"Meant what?" he asks, smiling down at her, his injured hand lying next to her head while the other draws a masterpiece of patterns on her waist.

"That I love you."

He pauses, staring down at her with wide eyes as his swirling fingers stop. "What?"

She rolls her eyes and pushes herself up to him. "I love you, Castle," she says against his mouth, emphasising the words with a quick kiss.

"You do?" he sounds awestruck when she looks back up at him, as if she's just handed him the world in her palm.

"I do."

He presses himself against her, arms wrapping around her as he buries his face into her neck, scattering her skin with soft brushes of his lips. Lifting her arms up, she hugs him to her, hands spanning the plane of his back fervently.

"But…I thought you said-"

"I know," she says, turning her head slightly so that her cheek rests against his hair. "I didn't think I was ready, and I wanted to wait until I was better. But, after these past couple of weeks, and knowing that the man who killed my mother is going away, I realised that I couldn't anymore."

He tilts his head against the cushion, glancing up at her curiously. "I know that I'm not in the best place right now, Castle," she tells him, trying to be as honest as possible. He deserves it from her. "But…without this case hanging over me, I need to try and find myself again, and you help ground me. You're my gravity when everything else is up in the air and breaking apart around me, so I thought that instead of trying to heal alone again, we could help each other, and that maybe I could try to be for you what you are for me."

When he lifts himself up, the smile he offers practically melts her, and he leans down to touch his forehead to hers. "You already are, Kate," he says softly, and she's coming to adore the way her name rolls off his tongue. "I love you with the case, or without it. I love you when you feel broken, and when you're out kicking ass. And whether you are ready to believe it or not, I'm telling you that I am in love with every single part of you, Kate Beckett."

She decides that she's going to work the rest of her life to feel as though she deserves those words, and give him back even a fraction of the joy he's given to her. Hoping that maybe they can use the pieces of their broken hearts to fix each other's and make them whole again.

"Then I guess you'd better kiss me, Castle."

"Oh, I plan to, Detective."

 **The End.**

* * *

 _So, that's it guys! The last chapter in my little experiment having a go at a longer story._

 _I just want to thank all of you for reading this, and for the continued support through reviews, favourites and follows. I just wrote this for fun and as a way to deal with stress, so the fact that so many of you have enjoyed it is overwhelming!_

 _Although this story is now over, I do have a plot in mind for my next multi-chapter, so I hope you'll like that one just as much._

 _Thank you all for coming along for the ride, and feel free to visit me and say hi on Twitter and/or Tumblr!_

 ** _Twitter: dappledshadows_**

 _ **Tumblr:** **walkingthroughraindrops**_


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